The Spinner In Forks: Twilight
by Habetrot
Summary: "What condition?  Nauseated and ineffectual?  I've never *seen* someone so dramatically helpless."  Meet Maureen Stanley, the Mary Sue who understands how contrived everything is...and prefers it to the alternative.
1. A Poor Introduction

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

**The Spinner In Forks: Twilight**

A year and a half ago, Maureen Stanley moved to Forks. It's been a peaceful place, if one ignores the angsty, patronizing vampires at school. Surely no one can be stupider than that. But someone new is coming to town, and our little Mary Sue is in for a rude surprise.

Forks may be an apathetic town, shallow and contrived. But it has very specific ideas about who matters and who doesn't, and a very specific plan for those people. That plan is about to unfold.

This story is preceded by my fic A Place Where No One Lives. It begins right on the heels of where that fic ends. Go to my author page to read it, if you want a full explanation of who Maureen Stanley is, and how (like most Mary Sues) she's not just an ordinary human.

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A Poor Introduction

Months passed. A year went by. And second by second in the numb town of Forks, Maureen Stanley lived.

Her dislocated shoulder felt bruised and achy for a time, but by the end of December it was like it had never happened. Maureen was glad…excessively so. If the dislocation had been the only part of her incident, she would have merely regarded it as a warning for the future. But because of the _result _of her injury, the pain had been a reminder that she'd allowed a web of pointless drama, spun by_ idiots_, to disrupt the peaceful life she was trying to make for herself. Now it was over and done. She could go back to ignoring the things that didn't matter to her, and focusing on those that did.

Her birthday was in January. Maureen went to a nice restaurant with her Aunt, Uncle and cousin Jessica, but she decided against having a large celebration. As much as Jessica protested, ("come on, it's a great reason to throw a really big party!") Maureen didn't like the idea of inviting a horde of high schoolers into the house, most of whom she didn't know very well.

She still didn't know anyone very well. But Maureen did have some friends at school, acquaintances whose company she valued. She and Mike Newton would sometimes team up on school projects if they shared a class, and when she felt lonely she would hang out with Jess, Beth and Angela. Maureen had no illusions. These people were friends of necessity, people she spent time with just because she wanted people to spend time with—not because they shared similar interests. This didn't make them lame, or inferior. They just were who they were.

She got her intermediate driver's license in the middle of March, and was allowed to drive Jessica and herself to school. But Aunt Joan, while willing to let the girls borrow the car to get to school, expressly forbid anyone else under twenty getting in the car. Despite her 'illegal' trip to the Quileute reservation with Mike, Maureen upheld this rule. When Mike pointed it out, Maureen admitted her hypocrisy and confessed that she simply didn't want to risk it, now that it was her behind the wheel.

"Tell you what, Mike." She said. "If you need a favor, I'll break the rules and give you a lift. But no one else."

Jessica, who got her own license three weeks later, discretely broke the no-driving-other-teens rule on a regular basis. Maureen reminded her of the penalties of being caught, but didn't rat her out. This proved beneficial in the long run—Jessica was deemed a 'safe driver', and her parents helped her buy a used white Mercury. Now it was much easier for Maureen and Jessica to go places without parental supervision.

_I'll get a car for myself one day._ Maureen thought. _Later. Not now._

They passed the 10th grade, and Maureen got to watch the monochrome tones of Forks in Winter explode into a mass of color as Spring went into overdrive. Admittedly, the mass of color was mostly shades of green. And everything was still muddy, wet, and frequently cloudy. But the air grew warmer, the flowers bloomed, and the world came back to life.

Maureen spent her summer in a flurry of activity. Without school, all her days were free. She would hike through the wilderness, starting at dawn and returning at dusk, foraging pack full of fiber plants. She drove herself to a sheep farm and bought bags of wool, freshly sheared and in desperate need of washing and carding. She signed herself up as a vendor at a crafts fair in Port Angeles, and sold enough of her work that she decided to set up her own website, in order to keep making money the whole year round. She was forever dressing hemp and nettles, spinning and weaving and knitting and sewing. The days flowed together joyously, and Maureen was deliriously happy.

_This is what makes life worth living._ She thought. She barely noticed the occasional blur of a Cullen running through the woods as she foraged for plants.

September brought the splendor of summer to a screeching halt. Maureen suppressed her frustration as best she could. She was a Junior now—only two more years until she was done with high school forever. She could handle that.

The classes were much the same—some different teachers, some slightly different subjects, but same old schedule and same old kids. Mike came back with a tan—he'd spent part of July and August in California with his grandparents. He was immensely pleased with his new color, and grumbled loudly as the Washington cloudbank turned him pale again. Maureen patted him reassuringly on the back, then told him to shut up already. Jess had gotten slightly more mature over the summer. She was better about not blurting out the wrong thing, though she still loved to gossip...and pester Maureen about please putting in a good word for her with Mike.

Everyone else was more or less the same—Angela Weber was still pleasant, Lauren Mallory was still a bitch. And of course, the Cullens were _exactly _the same. It boggled Maureen; how nobody noticed that the five of them were completely unchanging, physically as well as emotionally. Maureen hadn't really spoken to any of the Cullens in months—the last time had been in December, when she'd cornered Rosalie so she could return Alice's fashion prints. Rosalie had thanked her, and asked how she was. They'd made small talk, but the conversation was short. And of course Maureen had talked with Edward…they shared some classes, and occasionally had to collaborate. But their interactions had been exceedingly formal, polite to the point of being painfully awkward. Maureen assumed Edward was trying to suppress his distaste of her—certainly none of Maureen's thoughts were particularly nice, especially regarding Edward himself.

This new school year proved to be somewhat different. While the Cullens still sat alone, and considered Maureen an outsider, she was distinctly _less_ of a stranger...as if her knowing they were vampires made it okay for them to _sort of _talk to her. They greeted her in the halls, with a casual 'hi' or 'hello', and Jasper would give her a thin-lipped, painful smile. If one of them had a question, there was a better chance of them asking her, then simply getting Edward to read her mind. And Maureen and Edward seemed to have developed a better kind of truce. She knew he still thought she was a rude bitch, and she still thought he was an absolute douchebag. But when class activities required them to speak, there was less repressed hostility. Like neither of them had enough cause or energy to really hate the other.

Halloween passed. Then Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. Maureen's life continued in pleasant routine. The website she'd set up to sell her crafts was doing nicely. Although most of what Maureen sold were the hats, scarves and whatnot she'd made on her own, after people began asking her for specialized items Maureen started accepting a certain amount of commissions each month. It was enjoyable work, and although the profit she made was neither large nor consistent, Maureen was content with it. Occasionally she would receive e-mails from people suggesting or outright telling her that she should expand her store, start churning out popular items in mass production. Maureen wrote back that she had no desire to stress herself in that way. Eventually she stopped responding to those people, or to most of the people who e-mailed with various complaints. The most baffling email was from a woman who complained that the sweater she'd bought from the site looked 'homemade'. Maureen wrote back that it _was _homemade, and if the woman wanted a sweater that looked store-bought, she should go to Wal-Mart.

January came around again, and Maureen turned seventeen. It was another quiet party, just with her family. Uncle Thomas had wondered about inviting Maureen's Father and stepmother to come up from Sacramento and visit, but Maureen had persuaded him not to call them.

"If they can come, they'll call." Maureen said.

They never called. That had been one of Maureen's hopes, in coming to Forks…that her Dad and stepmother would slowly start to emotionally forget her. The California where her parents lived was a long way away from the Washington where she was. The fact that they'd sent Maureen to live with her Aunt and Uncle of their own free will had made the transition smoother. Maureen would be more easily misremembered, until they would cease to worry about her at all. She would miss them, Cathy and her Dad. Maureen knew that. But it was another tie cut, another step towards freedom. Freedom that meant living here, in Forks, devoted to her work. Maureen continued to spin yarn, to knit or weave it, and sew clothing on her machine. She ignored Jessica's constant gossip, did her homework and kept herself busy. She narrowed her world to a comfortable size, to school, acquaintances, chores and her fiber crafts. In this numb town of Forks, nothing more was necessary.

The day after her birthday, Maureen woke up with the sudden urge to smile.

_Forks is happy._ She thought, seeking a reason for her good mood. _It's happy, and it wants to shout it to the skies._

Maureen was baffled. Forks was many things…apathetic, peaceful, choosy, preachy. It had even been excited once or twice. But it had never been _happy_.

Maureen sat up in bed, chewing on her thumbnail as she concentrated.

_This place is happy._ She thought. _Very happy. But it's also intense: excited and desperate at the same time. Those are negative emotions. Except it…it doesn't think of itself as being negative in any way. All is positive._

Maureen didn't like it. It wasn't the vaguely numb feeling she was used to. This place was normally like touching your tongue to anesthetic. For it to be so worked up was unsettling.

"Calm before the storm." Maureen muttered to herself. "Or the storm's already here, and no one knows it."

Maureen drove herself and Jessica to school in the Mercury, trying to will the world back into numbness. It didn't work. Maureen spent the whole day looking over her shoulder, as if she expected something to jump out behind her.

"You've been jerking around like crazy." Jessica said at lunch. "Have you got some kind of nervous tic?"

"She's been looking at your face!" A boy hooted from a nearby table. Jessica chucked a balled-up napkin at him, there were more whoops and cackles.

"Idiots." Jessica said.

"I'm fine." Maureen said. "Not sure why I'm sitting with you for the third day in a row, though."

"Because you've been lonely, and we're cousins, and we need to bond." Jessica said.

"And because you leave your science homework sitting defenseless on the table while you _knit_." Lauren Mallory said, sliding Maureen's notebook back across the table.

Jessica looked sheepish. Beth giggled. Angela, ingénue that she was, was blissfully listening to a CD player, and had not heard Lauren.

"Don't mess up my papers while you're cheating off of me." Maureen said casually. "Or I _will _make you regret it."

"You don't care that I copied the answers?" Lauren said, raising an eyebrow. It was a trick she'd learned during Fall semester, and she kept showing it off. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I don't." Maureen said. "Make no mistake—it's apathy, not the desire to curry favor from you. Honestly, it's your loss. I coast, but at least I do my own work. You're the one who's going to leave here totally ignorant, not me."

"I don't need to know about cells and junk." Lauren said. "I'm going to be _famous_."

"Not for the Nobel Prize in Science, that's for damn sure." Maureen muttered, half-absorbed with the honey-colored scarf she was knitting.

Maureen arrived at Biology II early, before her desk mate (or most of the class) had come in. She dropped her book bag on the table, then leaned diagonally across the aisle and tapped Edward Cullen on the shoulder. It was like tapping her forefinger against a cement block.

"Sorry to disturb your highness." She said. Despite her choice of words, she kept the sarcasm out of her voice. "Does Alice see anything strange about to happen?"

Edward turned around, glaring at her patronizingly.

"No." He said. "Why?"

There was no way she was explaining it to him.

"Nothing." Maureen said. "It's probably just PMS."

Edward's eyes narrowed.

"Please stay out of our business." He said.

"I am just _talking_ to a peer at school." Maureen hissed. "I don't care if you're worried that being chummy with me is a threat to your family. I'm unappetizing, remember? This whole _school_ is more of a threat that I am. And yet you and your siblings come to high school day after day, even though it's dangerous, even though you all _hate it_. Want to play at being teenagers without having to bitch about it? Say you're being home schooled."

"Home school isn't the norm. We are trying to blend in." Edward said, speaking low enough that Maureen had to strain to hear.

"Well you're doing a piss-poor job, given your _other _motive is to keep people away." Maureen said.

"At least I'm not letting a girl I hate copy off my homework." Edward retorted.

_**Oh, go fuck a duck!**_ Maureen thought angrily, sitting back down in her seat. Bad enough Edward dismissed her whole personality as cruel and acerbic. He still insisted on using his telepathy to validate his dislike of her.

Maureen felt Forks readjust itself slightly over the course of the afternoon and evening—she tasted the numb feeling on her tongue again.

_This place is still unsettlingly happy._ She thought. _But I can ignore it if I want. Thank goodness._

_

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_

I'm a big fan of reviews. If you enjoyed this first chapter, or hated it, or want to comment on something specific, please Read & Review!


	2. The Important Things In Life

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

* * *

The Important Things In Life

Maureen got up the next morning feeling bleary and congested. She groaned and stumbled to the bathroom, rubbing sleep grit from her eyes. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection: gray eyes, slightly crooked nose, a smattering of zits across her cheeks like freckles, and dirt-colored hair that hung a little past her ears

_I'm stuffed up. That's what I get for sleeping with the windows shut._ Maureen thought, blowing her nose with a tissue. Forks was clicking away at the back of her mind like fingers on a typewriter.

_I'm just going to ignore it._ Maureen decided. _There are too many other things I could be doing. Like that glove pattern I found online last week._

It was a stupidly complicated but absolutely gorgeous crochet pattern, for a pair of wool gloves dotted with small rosebuds, raised stems and bumpy thorns. Maureen had the perfect yarn for it too. There was the dark green wool yarn she'd dyed herself, for the stems. And for the bulk of the gloves, yarn she'd found at a craft fair last summer—a soft red blush, the color of raspberries.

Maureen let Jessica drive them to school, too absorbed with crocheting a stitch chain into a circle. It had to be loose—but not too loose—to serve as the wrist of the glove. Simple gloves or mittens were easy enough to make, especially when one used crochet instead of knitting with double-pointed needles. But this pair had a lot of raised embellishments, which would require extra work.

_I am not here, I cannot hear._ Maureen thought. She willed her actions—the movement of the crochet hook, the thread twisting around her fingers—to serve as a sort of mental block. Such a request would not hold for very long. She could hear Forks as if it was a person, and there was no way for her to completely shut it out. But she could use the fiber in her hands to distract herself, for a time.

_My name is Spinner. I am not here. I cannot hear. I ask no questions, desire no answers._

Needless to say, Maureen's morning classes passed in a blur. Aside from Gym (where knitting needles and crochet hooks were impossible to hide), Maureen spent every period Not Paying Attention. She knew the teachers were saying things, making announcements and lecturing. But she hunkered down in her seat, only looking up once or twice to feign attention. The blue crochet hook in her lap flashed in and out of the red yarn, halting only as Maureen consulted the pattern she'd printed that morning. Spinner she was, but Maureen was still a seventeen-year-old girl, not some omnipotent goddess of yarn. Even she needed to read the directions.

At the end of her Government class, the lunch bell rang. Like Pavlov's dog, Maureen's stomach abruptly rumbled. Angela Weber was sitting in the seat next to her, and smiled kindly at the audible noise.

"I think you're hungry, Maureen." She said, carefully slipping her three-ring binder into her bag. "I am too."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to eat." Maureen complained, as they shouldered their backpacks and shuffled out of the classroom. "I mean, I like eating, but having to do it at certain times gets in the way of other things. This glove is important. Fuck food."

Angela giggled. "You shouldn't swear, a hall monitor could hear you."

Maureen was tempted to let forth a string of profanity, but checked herself. Angela may be a bit of a wet blanket, but she was sweet, and sensible. And there _was_ a hall monitor right there, glaring at Maureen like she'd just killed a bunny with her bare hands.

Angela walked to her regular table, sitting down next to Ashley Dowling. Maureen trailed after her, too distracted to try and find a different place to sit. She nudged her way into a seat at the end of the table, and pulled a granola bar out of her backpack. Tearing the wrapper open with her teeth, she gobbled it down, and wiped her fingers off on her jeans. Lunch was taken care of. Maureen pulled out the half-finished glove, and began carefully crocheting the thumb, taking time to build the tiny roses in a swirling pattern, switching to the green yarn as she added the raised stems and thorns. The voices around her faded into the background, a droning hum of adolescent chatter.

Maureen did hear Jessica arrive at the table—she was making a lot of noise, more even than usual. And everyone at the table was talking back, excitedly. Maureen made a sound that she hoped sounded like a hello, but kept her eyes on the glove. The thumb was almost done.

"Maureen?"

Jessica repeated Maureen's name—Maureen belatedly realized that her cousin was trying to prompt something.

"Uh?" Maureen raised her head.

There was a girl sitting across the table from her, a girl she'd never seen before. Maureen blinked—her eyes had been focused for too long on the work in her lap. The girl in front of her was mostly just a blob of brown hair and pale skin.

"This is Bella Swan." Jessica said. "Bella, this is my cousin Maureen."

"Hi, Maureen." The voice was soft, and sounded embarrassed.

Maureen blinked again, and the blob focused into a teenage girl with very generic features and a desperate, earnest expression. Oh, right. The Police Chief's daughter had come to live in Forks. Maureen vaguely remembered hearing Jess mention this a few days ago.

"Oh, hi." Maureen said. "Sorry, I'm busy right now." She dropped her head again, weaving the crochet hook into the next row.

"Don't mind her. She's—" Whatever excuse Jess was about to give for Maureen's inattentiveness faded into the buzz of voices as Maureen purposely tuned Jess out. Being rude was the least of Maureen's concerns right now. She'd just cleared a tricky part, and her stitches were speeding up. Besides, Forks was starting to murmur loudly—it was as if a six-year-old was tugging on Maureen's sleeve, and pointing wildly. _Look, Look!_

She would have to push harder, to keep Forks quiet. _I am not here. I cannot hear._

Lunch ended sooner than Maureen would have liked—it did help her stress level, to work during a period where she didn't have to worry about a teacher calling on her. Hefting her backpack over one shoulder, Maureen fast-walked to Biology II, and tumbled into her seat. She heard June Richardson sit down next to her a minute later.

"Lauren was _so_ pissed just now." June said, clearly thrilled over the gossip she was imparting. "It's the new girl Isabella. None of the boys can shut up about her, and oh boy is Lauren _mad_!"

"Mm." Was Maureen's distracted reply, counting stitches in her head. _One, two three, double, one—_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of black designer-cut pants walk down the aisle of seats, stopping at their customary table.

After yesterday, Maureen wouldn't put it past Edward to poke around in her skull for his own amusement. She increased the volume of her thoughts. _SKIP, ONE, TWO, THREE, DOUBLE—_

No response from the pants. Not even a foot tapping in irritation. If her mental shouting was affecting Edward, he wasn't letting it show. Maureen went back to counting normally, using one hand to awkwardly open her backpack and pull out her science notebook and folder. She tossed them onto the desk, the latter opening as it landed. She went back to crocheting with both hands.

_One, two, three, four, one two, three, skip…_ Maureen made a face. Under her counting, Forks was murmuring in the back of her mind. The tone was urgent, and reverent.

"Your folder is on top of mine." June said.

Irritated, Maureen slammed her folder shut, and returned her eyes to her work. She'd nearly finished the palm—and after that she'd work on the individual fingers. Maureen kept her hands discreetly in her lap as Mr. Banner began to speak. It was a blissfully boring lesson about cellular anatomy, lacking any demand for student participation. Maureen glanced up every once in a while, feigning interest—all the while stitches and stems whirled in her mind.

The hour passed quickly enough. The bell rang, and Maureen raised her neck gingerly, her shoulders stiff with concentration. She looked up…and saw Edward Cullen bolting from the classroom. Now that was odd. Not only had he fled the room before anyone else had gotten up, but he'd been moving just a little too fast. None of the Cullens ever moved like that in public, it was too unhuman a speed.

_Good grief, what's with him?_ Maureen thought.

She didn't see Edward in her next class. _Must've had to take a vampire crap. _ Maureen thought, smirking.

_Unless something else is actually wrong, like with one of his siblings. _ Her face sobered. As distasteful as the Cullens were, as much as they didn't want to be friends…Maureen _had_ been friends with them. With Jasper and Rosalie, at least. She hoped neither of them were in trouble.

If they were, though, there was nothing she could do about it. Worrying was pointless. Maureen went back to working on the glove, and tried to put the whole thing out of mind.

She finished the first glove halfway through her last class. Maureen leaned back triumphantly, admiring her handiwork as she flexed her stiff fingers. The second glove would be easier, now that she'd done the first. That could wait until after she got home, though.

She was walking to her car when a voice called after her.

"Maureen, hey, Maureen!"

She turned. Mike Newton was waving at her, his other hand clasping a backpack strap slung casually over one shoulder.

"What's up, Mike?" Maureen slowed until he reached her, and the two fell into step.

"Which prompt did you pick for the Wuthering Heights essay?" Mike asked.

"Oh, uh, the one about the narrative structure." Maureen said, trying to remember the homework assignment she'd hastily scribbled down that morning in English, before returning her attention to the glove. "I'm going to make the case that it's a horrible book about horrible people. "

"You're going to admit flat out to Mr. Mason that you think Wuthering Heights sucks?" Mike asked. "Can you do that?"

"If I argue my point well enough, hopefully yes." Maureen said. "There's a whole lot of subtle stuff in that book. If you read between the lines, and don't just take what the narrators say at face value, it's pretty clear that there is no 'right' romance, no good characters. Everyone up in the Heights and the Grange are classist, ignorant twisted bastards, and half of what drives them nuts is just _living _up there."

"Whoa." Mike scratched the back of his head. "Gutsy. What do you think I should write about?"

Maureen thought for a moment. "If you don't want to put too much effort in, I'd pick the character contrast option. Just write about the differences between Heathcliff and Linton, like how one is dangerous and sexy and the other is safe but boring, that kind of thing."

"Gotcha." Mike grinned. "I might ask you to explain all that again, though. So I can memorize it. That new girl's in our class, too. I'd like to help her out."

"…something Swan, right?" Maureen wasn't too great with names, but in a town as tiny as Forks it was hard to forget the surname of the Chief of Police.

"Bella. Not Isabella, she doesn't like that." Mike said. "I talked to her today. She's really nice, and really cute."

Maureen smiled bemusedly. These days Mike seemed to consider her 'one of the guys' and felt she was safe to confide in.

"Well, I'm glad she's not a heinous bitch." Maureen said. "We have enough of those around here already."

"Do _you_ think she's cute?"

Maureen wracked her brains, trying to remember the girl's face. All she could remember was that nothing remarkable had stood out to her.

"I guess." She said. Mike frowned slightly, apparently unsatisfied.

"You must have an opinion about her, though." He said.

"…well, I don't think Lauren likes her very much." Maureen ventured. She recalled that June had mentioned something along those lines. And Lauren's face _had_ been even more scowly and fish-puckered than usual at lunchtime.

"That's Lauren's opinion, not yours." Mike said.

"Mike, I barely spoke to the girl."

"But don't you have your own opinion? Don't you dig girls?"

"Wait, _what_?" Maureen stopped walking.

It had sounded like a joke. But Mike's face looked completely sincere. _Oh, son of a bitch._

Maureen pinched the bridge of her nose. "_No_, I am not a lesbian, Mike, thank you. Not that there's anything wrong with that—"

Forks gave a trumpeting protest, but Maureen responded with the mental equivalent of a curbstomp, and it shut up.

"—but I definitely don't 'dig girls'. What makes you think I would?"

Mike shrugged. "I dunno. You don't date anybody, so maybe it's because you like girls."

Maureen scoffed. "That's the dumbest thing I've heard all day, and we go to school with some _very_ dumb people. Use your head, Mike! Would you call a guy who had never gone on any dates a gay man?"

"…Yes?"

Maureen slapped her forehead. _Ugh!_

"Oh, I also wanted to ask you a favor." Mike said, choosing to ignore Maureen's frustration. In his defense, Maureen admitted, she got frustrated pretty easily.

"Shoot." Maureen said.

"Can you switch seats with me in Biology?"

Maureen raised her eyebrows. "Can you not see from the back of the classroom, or are you suddenly interested in June Richardson?"

"Neither. But your seat is closer to where Bella's sitting." Mike said. "I want to see if I can talk to her during class."

Maureen shook her head. "You know Mr. Banner hates when we switch seats. I'd speak up for you if you were having trouble seeing the board, but I'm not going to stick my neck out so you can flirt with Miss Newbie, however nice she may be."

"Please. Maureen?"

"No."

Mike made a face. "You're a spoilsport."

"Oh yes, truly." Maureen said sarcastically. She liked talking with Mike—he was a down-to-earth, friendly sort of guy. But whenever he got onto the subject of girls, his IQ took a nosedive right into his pants.

A subtle blur sped out from the Administration Building. Maureen blinked.

_Was that Edward again?_ Maureen barely had time to form the thought before the blur had reached the Cullens' silver Volvo. Suddenly the car lurched into reverse, and sped out of the parking lot.

"Freaks." Mike muttered. He obviously hadn't seen the blur, but the Cullens' Volvo squealing its tires was much more visible. Maureen nodded absentmindedly as she watched the car speed off.

"I need to find Jess." She said, after a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mike."

"See you."

Finding Jessica proved to be easy enough. She was sitting in the Mercury behind the wheel, practically bouncing in anticipation.

"You are _not _knitting on the way home." She declared as Maureen climbed into the passenger seat. "You are _not_, because I know you were so out of it today you might as well have been on happy pills, and I need to tell you _everything_."

"We might not live long enough for you to relate _everything _to me, Jess." Maureen said, buckling her seatbelt as Jessica drove out of the parking lot. "There's a lot of _everything_."

"Hah-hah." Jess said. "But seriously, Bella Swan, the new girl? She's great! She came from Phoenix, right, and now she's living with her Dad, Chief Swan. And she sat next to me in Trigonometry and Spanish, and she sat with us at lunch—"

"I remember that part. I was there."

"You could have fooled me." Jess stuck her tongue out playfully.

Maureen laughed. "Just drive the damn car, Jess."

Jessica braked at a stop sign, and turned left down the main road that wound through Forks, heading for the Stanley's neighborhood.

"Bella was asking me all sorts of questions, about the school and the town and everyone here." Jessica said proudly. "I even told her about the Cullens, how weird they are. And she listened to me, and we're going to be great friends. She's amazing!"

"Well, that's awesome." Maureen said honestly. "She seems to be getting great reviews. Mike told me about her just now, after last period let out. He agrees with you; he thinks she's nice."

"Mike already met her?" Jessica's voice was a strange blend of interest and dismay. "He thinks she's nice?"

"Yeah, he was asking me for my opinion of her." Maureen said. "He really wanted to know what I thought. I'm getting the feeling that this girl is receiving a disproportionate amount of interest from the student body."

_Like when I first came here. _Maureen frowned at the memory. _Something about Forks' viewpoint on new girls…_

Jessica made a rude noise, interrupting Maureen's train of thought. "Eric Yorkie was waving at her during lunch. And now Mike knows her…you know, she's not even that pretty. How come she gets all the attention?"

"You want her to be your best buddy, but you resent her getting more attention that you?" Maureen smiled wryly. "I think your hypocrisy is showing, Jess."

"That's not what I meant!" Jessica said. "You don't get it, you weren't paying attention. Why weren't you paying attention like everyone else at the table?"

"Because a new girl who I know nothing about is none of my concern." Maureen explained. "That's just how it is."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Oh my god Maureen, do you care about _anything_?"

"Oh, very little. I consider it a solid plus." Maureen said.

Jessica thumped the edge of the steering wheel, as if to emphasize her point. "This is important, Maureen. If Bella likes me, than other people will like me. I'll have stuff to tell Lauren about, if she asks. If Mike's so curious, then maybe he'll want to talk to me too. Everyone at school thinks Bella is like a shiny new toy. And if she's _my_ shiny new toy, then people will pay attention to _me_!"

"I pay attention to you, Jessie." Maureen said.

"You don't count. You live in my house." Jessica said.

"Gee, thanks."

"But this is all fantastic." Jess continued. "This is the best thing that's happened since school started!"

"I'm glad." Maureen said. "Now if only Mr. Varner would come down with a mysterious illness, and be replaced by a substitute who was much less strict."

"I know, right?"

After reaching the Stanley home, Maureen retreated to her room. She closed the patchwork curtains she'd made, and switched on her desk lamp, throwing a warm glow of light across the room. Maureen curled up on top of the quilts and knitted throws she had made for her bed. It was like a big, warm nest.

_I'll crochet a little of the second glove, then look over my homework assignments after dinner._ Maureen decided sleepily. It had been a tiring day, but a productive one. The finished glove was beautiful. And the endless, urgent murmuring of Forks had finally died down.

Maureen rolled over onto her side, and plucked the yarn and crochet hook out of her backpack. Slowly and comfortably, she began to stitch a chain.

_This is what I care about._ Maureen thought blissfully. _Of nothing else in this place do I care._

_

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_Read & Review! :D


	3. Relevant Questions

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

I also hope the big literary buffs reading this (if there are any) can forgive me mangling James Joyce's poem for my own purposes. Any other literary references in this story I think I did justice to…mostly I use them to argue against the Twilight series.

Also, I shamelessly ripped text from the wikipedia entry on Bella Swan. But I feel it was appropriate for the context.

* * *

Relevant Questions

Much to Maureen's chagrin, the next day at school she was forced to eat her words…or at least, her thoughts. She found herself caring quite a bit when, after morning classes, she confirmed with absolute certainly that Edward Cullen was not in school.

_What the hell._ Maureen thought. She disliked that this bothered her…if she had her way, she'd be completely indifferent to Edward. But it was hard to be indifferent to a giant bloodsucking pain in the ass. And he was normally as regular as clockwork, at school every day unless it was sunny. Which it wasn't…the cloudbank was as low and grey as ever. Besides, the other four Cullens were here. Maureen had seen them arrive in Emmett's car.

_Screw this._ Maureen worked on finishing the second rose glove, trying to ignore both the sound of Forks muttering, and her own brooding thoughts. She followed Angela to the cafeteria again, expecting that today's lunchtime would be much like yesterday's. But upon the arrival of Jess and Bella, Mike magnanimously motioned the two of them to sit at his table. June, Ashley, Beth and Angela quickly followed them, and Maureen let herself be propelled along.

"How sweet, Mike." Maureen said dryly. "It's a testament to your kind and friendly nature that you're inviting us all to sit with you, I'm sure."

Mike didn't seem to hear her. But the new girl Bella did, and she looked over as Maureen sat down.

"Yes?" Maureen asked, noticing the wide brown eyes fixating on her.

"You just used sarcasm." Bella said. Her skin was pale, and her features were symmetrical. No distinguishing characteristics, like a birthmark or an irregular nose. Her face was perfectly proportioned.

"…yes, that was sarcasm." Maureen said. "Is it a problem?"

Bella blushed slightly, and shook her head. She looked embarrassed, but also amused. "No, it's just…" She bent her head towards Maureen. "I don't think a lot of people here use sarcasm. Or understand it when they hear it."

Maureen pondered the statement. "Yeah, that's valid. You're not wrong."

Mike directed a question at Bella, and the pale girl was pulled into the conversation. Maureen brought out her crochet hook, and went back to work. She didn't speak to anyone for the rest of the period.

Edward's absence was even more pronounced when his chair in Biology II was empty. Bella sat in the seat beside it, looking for all the world like a distressed puppy. And Mike stood next to Bella's table until the bell rang, talking animatedly as if he didn't realize his conversation partner was less than enthusiastic.

"Do keep standing next to that desk when everyone is sitting down." Maureen commented as Mike made his way to his own desk. "It gives us all a Grade A view of your ass."

Mike grinned. "So you think my ass is Grade A? I _knew_ it."

Maureen rolled her eyes, not even attempting to dignify that with a response.

She finished the second rose glove before Biology ended, and slipped both gloves on. The wool was a little itchy, being wool—but Maureen loved the feel of it, the texture. The school was a bit too well heated to wear the gloves indoors, but they'd be perfect for outdoor weather. It was, all in all, a successful project. And it had put Maureen in a wool yarn sort of mood. She decided the next thing she brought to school would be her drop spindle, so she could do a little hand spinning. It was much slower than the spinning wheel, but the process had its own pleasant feel. Besides, it was a portable activity…one Maureen hadn't made time for in at least a month. It was overdue. She couldn't dye any more homespun yarn unless she turned more undyed wool _into _homespun.

That night, Maureen helped Aunt Joan do the dishes, and carded the white wool for her drop spindle in the living room while chatting with Jessica. It was a homely and comfortable evening. But in the back of Maureen's mind, her concerns and confusions jostled each other, refusing to lie still.

Maureen's mind was made up the next morning, when once again Emmett's jeep pulled into the school parking lot, and only four vampires climbed out. Maureen followed the four Cullens out of the parking lot, and was unsurprised when Alice spun around and looked at her…not sensing Maureen's presence so much as sensing Maureen's _future _presence. Maureen raised her hands, to indicate that she meant no harm. In response, Alice whirled back around and kept walking, slipping between Jasper and Emmett. She linked her arms in the crooks of their elbows, and half-pulled them farther up the path, ahead of Rosalie.

_She knows who I'm aiming for, then._ Maureen thought darkly. Jogging to catch up, Maureen caught Rosalie by the sleeve. To her credit Rosalie didn't startle, or bare her teeth. She just turned around in one quick, fluid movement.

"Hey." Maureen said. "Where the fuck is Edward?"

Rosalie looked uncomfortable, but not angry.

"Not your business." She said curtly, her beautiful features frozen in a disapproving expression.

Maureen threw up her hands. "Fine. That's fair. It's not like he's my friend. But I wanted to know if you guys were okay."

Rosalie was standing frozen in place, the corners of her mouth turned down. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere but where she was standing

"…_are_ you guys okay?" Maureen asked.

Rosalie absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.

"Yes." Rosalie said. "For now, anyway."

Maureen nodded. "Okay. Look…you know you can vent to me whenever, right? I mean, Edward thinks that if you hang around near me, I'll get hurt and you guys will get in trouble or something. But you _know_ I think that's bullshit. And even if I'm pissed at you, or if you're pissed at me…well, I consider venting to be an important stress release mechanism. If you need to get anything off your chest, I will listen."

Rosalie nodded curtly, then turned on her heel and marched towards the nearest school building, too quickly for Maureen to follow.

"Cripes." Maureen muttered, and headed off to her first class.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. Maureen paid close attention, catching up on whatever she'd glossed over while coasting for the past few days. It wasn't all easy, and Maureen knew she'd missed a thing or two. But that was the price of actually doing something constructive during school hours, and Maureen was more than willing to pay it. Except the drop spindle and the small baggie of undyed wool were practically burning a hole in her backpack. Maureen resolved to sit alone at lunch today, and see how much she could spin into a single ply.

Maureen found an empty table in the cafeteria and ate her lunch quickly, but steadily. Wolfing down food three days in a row was liable to make her feel ill. So she ate like a normal person, enjoying the taste of her tuna-on-rye sandwich with fresh lettuce, and cutting up slices of a juicy pear with her pocket knife. She was done eating after ten minutes, and suddenly realized she had to go to the bathroom. Picking up her backpack, Maureen exited the cafeteria and walked down the hall to the nearest ladies' room. No one was there, and Maureen ducked into the cleanest cubicle she could find.

As Maureen flushed the toilet, she heard the sound of shoes clicking across the floor. Maureen belted her pants, and opened the cubicle door. Rosalie was standing right there, trademark stubborn look on her face. She put up an arm, and blocked the opening.

"I locked the door." Rosalie said. Maureen almost laughed. Rosalie said that like it was supposed to be reassuring.

"I'm not going to scamper off, if that's what you're worried about." Maureen responded. "I know you haven't used a toilet in God knows how long, but I need to wash my hands. Can you move?"

Rosalie snorted, amused. She dropped her arm. Maureen walked past her to the sinks, and turned the faucet on.

"Are we talking again?" Maureen asked over the rush of the water. She pressed the soap dispenser, and scrubbed her hands until they were lathered.

"I'm surprised you would." Rosalie said. "We gave you no reason to even try. I'm not so self-absorbed that I don't know that. I thought you'd hate us forever."

"Well, I do think you're all assholes. But I try not to hate. It puts a cramp in my apathy." Maureen rinsed her hands, and turned the faucet off. She shook her fingers to dry them. "So, what's up?"

Rosalie twisted her fingers together, and bit her lip. Except for her frustrated, worried expression, the pose would have looked perfect on the cover of Vogue magazine.

"He ran off." Rosalie said. "Edward, that is. Actually, 'ran off' isn't completely accurate. He just left in a big, big hurry. He took Carlisle's car, and drove up to Alaska. Far as Alice knows, he's still there."

Maureen made a confused face. "Why?"

"Edward's got…well…" Rosalie made a face. "It's difficult to explain."

"Take your time." Maureen said, calmly. The blonde vampire thought for a moment, flawless white forehead furrowed in concentration.

"There's a human girl. He wants to drink her blood." Rosalie finally said. "Really badly wants to drink it. Like, 'break into her house and drain her dry because he can't stop himself' bad."

"…what?"

"Alice's words, not mine." Rosalie said. "Although she failed to predict that he nearly slaughtered the girl in Biology, according to what Edward told Carlisle before he left."

Maureen put her hands on her head. This wasn't making any sense. Edward, holier-than-thou Edward, had almost killed someone in public? He was the one with perfect self-control!

Then again…the tighter you were wound, the harder you snapped.

"Sorry, who is this girl again?" Maureen asked.

"Uhm…" Rosalie snapped her perfectly manicured fingers a couple times, in an effort to recall the name. "Isabella Swan, the new student. The Police Chief's daughter. She smelled intoxicating to him. But he couldn't read her mind."

"Really." Now that was interesting. "Not at all?"

"Apparently."

"Is she supernatural, or something?"

Rosalie snorted. "Highly doubtful. She's just a sweet human. Intoxicating scent, mouthwatering blood. The sort of human that one vampire, or more, will find impossible to resist."

"This is some kind of vampire phenomenon, then?" Maureen said. "You stumble across the perfect human, and they're just irresistible meatsacks?"

"I'd phrase it less crudely, but yes. It's happened to Emmett a few times before." Rosalie said. "He said it was like this sudden, undeniable urge…he didn't even try resisting. But Edward _did_ resist, and now she's like a torment to him. Alice said—I'm not sure why she felt the need to go into detail on this, but Alice said in all the possible futures where Edward kills the girl, the loathing coming off him is palpable. Edward hates this Swan girl, for making him want her so badly."

"What, so it's her fault she smells like vampire catnip?" Maureen scoffed. "Screw that. That's like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, where the priest condemns the gypsy girl because she rejects his lust for her. Fuck that noise."

"I'm not exactly condoning any of this, here." Rosalie's said angrily.

"Sorry." Maureen ran a hand through her short hair. "Will Edward stay away long?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." Rosalie said.

"That's a pity."

Rosalie didn't laugh or express anger over Maureen's last comment. She looked distracted, and upset.

"We may have to leave." She said. "I don't want to. I like it here. And I don't think anyone else wants to move, either. But for Edward's sake, for all our sakes, if we have to go we will."

"Well, if you don't want to leave, I hope you don't have to." Maureen said. "You deserve to live where you want to live. And thanks for telling me all this."

Rosalie looked up, surprised. "Thank you for listening."

Maureen walked back to the cafeteria, trying to sort through all the information that Rosalie had just given her.

_I didn't notice a damn thing about Bella Swan._ Maureen said. _Not the first time, or the second time._

Maureen sat back down at her empty lunch table.

_There was nothing remarkable about her. Literally nothing. She's even more generic-looking than Mike. In fact, she's not just generic. She's _unspecific_. Like she's not meant to be a distinct person, but a whole category of girls—_

Forks gently, but firmly, poked Maureen in the back of her head.

Maureen reached into her backpack, and pulled out the drop spindle. She unwound about two feet off the shaft, and twisted the yarn around the hook. She pulled gently at the unspun wool it was attached to, sifting it into a thinner piece, ready for spinning.

"What was that James Joyce poem?" Maureen muttered to herself. "'Anna Livia Plurabelle'? The one that starts out: 'O tell me all about Anna Livia'."

Maureen grasped the base of the spindle between thumb and middle finger, and spun it towards herself.

_O tell me all about Bella Swan. I want to hear all about Bella Swan._ Maureen thought, eyes on the wool. It spun and twisted, and she fed out a little more. _I want to hear all about Bella Swan. Well, you know Bella Swan? Yes, of course, we all know Bella Swan. Tell me all. Tell me now. You'll die when you hear—_

Sometimes Forks—or other places—were unwilling to part with information. But this query didn't take any time at all…the answer came streaming into her eyes and ears. Maureen's gaze never left the twisting thread, and her hands continued to move the spindle, feed out the wool. But a hundred and one images flashed before her eyes. She gritted her teeth, senses overwhelmed.

_very fair proportion a bit too full for her jaw line brown hair and chocolate brown eyes tall, slender but not at all 115 pounds nervous habit she has stubby fingernails because she has a her face is heart-shaped a wide forehead with a skinned with I nose and a narrow jaw with a are darker than her hair and more straight than long, straight dark pointed chin her lips are a little out of widow's peak large wide-spaced prominent her eyebrows cheekbones and then a thin they are arched she's five eyes foot four inches muscular and weighs about of biting them_—

Maureen's left hand clenched around the wool, stopping the feed. But the spindle was still spinning, the images scrunching together.

_Clumsy stubborn private mind terrible liar occasionally good acting ability faint when smells blood lack of self-knowledge_—

The spindle slowed, and began to spin backward. Maureen's right thumb hooked around the shaft, and the spindle jerked to a stop. Maureen set the spindle down on the table, and buried her head in her hands.

It hadn't been the rush of information. She'd experienced that before, and she could pick it apart if she wanted. What had really knocked Maureen off balance was the overwhelmingly POSITIVE feelings Forks had been expressing. Every word, every image of that generic face, had come with a flood of love and adoration, of happiness and exaltation. It was like God coming down and singling out one blade of grass as the finest creation of them all.

Maureen rubbed her eyes. "Will_ somebody_ please explain this to me?"

* * *

Like it or hate it, leave a review!


	4. Beautiful Birdbrain

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

* * *

Beautiful Birdbrain

Maureen was frustrated and confused—but that didn't mean she was incapable of doing something about it. She enjoyed solving mysteries, even the difficult ones where she had no idea where to look, or how to begin. In situations like those, Maureen felt it best to go with her instincts. Step one of **Operation: Generic Girl **was to stop sneaking around, and approach the subject head on.

Thursday morning, Maureen went out of her way to make herself look very nice and very harmless. She put on a cotton knee-length blue skirt, with navy blue wool leggings and a white linen blouse. Over the blouse went a forest-green patchwork vest, and a turquoise choker she'd woven from embroidery floss. Maureen fluffed her hair, and admired herself in the full-length mirror hung on the back of her door. She looked folksy and conservative. Never mind that yesterday she'd been wearing black slacks, a chain necklace, and a sweater with holes purposely knitted into it. The only thing connecting the pieces of Maureen's wardrobe was that her clothes were homemade. She changed her style to suit her needs, and didn't feel awkward so long as she was well put together.

In first period English Maureen handed in her Wuthering Heights essay, crossing her fingers that Mr. Mason wouldn't flip a shit. She'd asked him two days ago if it was okay to argue the idea that the book was poorly written and its characters were irritating. He'd given her grudging permission on the grounds that it had better be an excellent essay. Maureen certainly thought it was excellent, but her standards obviously mattered much less than the teacher's.

At lunchtime Maureen walked calmly and unobtrusively into the cafeteria, following Angela to the lunch line. Maureen picked herself a hamburger, some fries and a baggie of chips. She paid at the register, then trotted quickly across the cafeteria. She ignored the four Cullens sitting in their usual spot, and walked purposefully to the table where her cousin was sitting. Bella Swan was settling into her seat next to Jessica, and Mike was already moving his chair to face the pale brunette.

_I am an absolute dick._ Maureen thought_. Sorry, Mike. _Maureen waited until Mike was about to sit, then grabbed the back of the seat with one hand and yanked it out from under him. Almost in slow motion, Mike went tumbling.

"Oh shit Mike, sorry." Maureen said. "I didn't see you there."

Maureen let go of Mike's chair, then quickly grabbed another one and slid it into the spot Mike had been aiming for—directly across from Bella. Maureen sat down, placing her tray on the table.

Mike climbed to his feet. "Maureen, what the hell—?"

"Eric Yorkie says you surf like a pussy." Maureen remarked.

"What?" Mike whipped his head around and took a few steps away from the table, eyes searching the room for Eric.

Jessica's mouth was half open; she looked unsure of what had just happened. Bella's eyes were a little wide, but she was staring steadily at Maureen. Lauren Mallory, sitting two seats over, smiled unpleasantly.

"Juvenile delinquent tendencies starting to resurface, Stanley?" Lauren said. "It clashes with your outfit, you know. What is that look, Dork Amish?"

"Tyler Crowley is talking to a red-haired Senior." Maureen said.

Lauren rolled her eyes. "What, and that's your brilliant tactic to get _me_ to flee the table?"

"Everything's always got to be about you, doesn't it?" Maureen said. "It was just an observation."

Maureen pointed towards Tyler's table, where he was indeed sitting quite close to a girl with curly red hair. Lauren made a face that put Maureen in mind of a furious herring. The blonde girl pushed back her chair and marched towards Tyler's table.

"…what the hell was all that?" Jessica asked.

Maureen ignored Jessica, and stuck out a hand towards Bella. "Hi. I'm Maureen Stanley. I don't think we met properly before."

Bella's eyes crossed as she looked at Maureen's hand. Slowly, she raised her own. The two shook hands across the table.

"I'm Bella Swan." Bella said after a moment.

"She should know who you are." Jessica said to Bella, giving Maureen an irritated look over her slice of pizza.

"Well, I figured I'd give you the chance to introduce yourself." Maureen said. "Sorry for ignoring you the o—"

Maureen stopped herself.

"No, wait. I'm not sorry." She admitted. "I was ignoring you on Monday because I was busy, and what I was doing was more important to me. That's all. Me apologizing would be a lie."

Male voices rose in anger across the room. Mike had apparently located Eric.

"Do you not like Mike Newton?" Bella asked, frowning slightly at Maureen. A single crease formed in her forehead.

"What? Oh no, Mike's great." Maureen said. "He's a good buddy. But to the best of my recollection he's been sitting near you for the past couple of days, following you to class and skulking around your table in Biology II."

Jessica huffed. Bella looked surprised, then amused.

"He has been following me around." Bella said quietly. She looked embarrassed, as if saying anything remotely bad about anyone was a shameful act. "He makes me think of a golden retriever, you know? Like an enthusiastic puppy, who wants attention all the time. I don't know what to do with overly friendly boys like that."

Maureen was surprised. For all Bella was ashamed of her disparaging thoughts, she was clearly capable of creative observation.

Wow. You're just as judgmental as me or Lauren." Maureen raised her hand. "High five!'

Bella didn't raise her hand, choosing instead to stammer indignantly. "Wha-hey! I'm, I'm not judg—"

"But you are." Maureen put her hand down. "To be fair, most everybody is. Especially in high school. Don't sweat it, really. Being judgmental only makes you a bad person if you express it alot."

"Like you do?" Jessica said, eyes triumphant.

"Never said I was a good person." Maureen replied cheerfully. "In fact, I'm quite terrible. I'd rather by myself than anyone else, though."

"And I know that better than anyone." Jessica said. "You being yourself means using that goddamn loom at three in the morning, clicking and clacking away. Some of us like _sleeping_, you, know."

"You two live in the same house?" Bella asked.

It was an honest enough question, and Bella's face was perfectly open and curious. But there was a hidden, elitist edge to her words, a tone that spoke of incredulity at single bathroom houses and extended families that lived in clannish proximity. Maureen filed the information away for future reference.

"We're not living with two or more nuclear families smushed into one house, if that's what you're asking." Maureen said. She took a bite out of her hamburger. "I moved to Forks to live in my Aunt and Uncle's house a couple years ago."

"Oh!" Bella said. "So you're sort of new, too."

Maureen nodded. "And in case you caught Lauren Mallory's little jibe, yes I did get expelled from my last school. But I'm not a goddamn juvenile delinquent."

"You don't seem like one." Bella said.

Maureen eyed the pale girl. Bella _was_ judging Maureen based on what she'd just heard—there was a hint of trepidation in her eyes that hadn't been there before. But Bella seemed to be reflexively admonishing herself for thinking something bad about another person. And Forks was encouraging that—helping to erase Bella's negative opinions.

"I used to live in Phoenix. Where did you live before you moved here?" Bella asked.

"I lived in Sacramento, California." Maureen said.

Bella's eyes lit up. "Do you hate the cold too?"

"Sorry, what?"

Bella shrugged, looking embarrassed again. Her cheeks were stained pink.

"I've seen you walking around outside." She said. "You've always got a scarf on, and mittens, and a big knitted cap with earflaps. I don't really like the cold…I'm from a warm state, like you. I wondered if you didn't like the cold either."

_She's intelligent._ Maureen thought. _She's observant. There's no denying that. But it's less that she's intelligent and observant, and more like Forks _**says**_ she's intelligent and observant, and so she is. Like the world around her is giving her a leg up, attaching traits she hasn't earned._

"Cold is cold." Maureen said. "This isn't exactly the most comfortable town to live in, but I don't despise cold weather any more than I despise hot weather. I wear all those knitted winter accessories because I made them. They're my work. I like to wear them."

"Maureen's big on fabric arts, or fiber arts, or whatever you call it." Jessica said. "She's really serious about it. If she didn't make such dorky stuff, it'd be a really cool hobby."

"What exactly do I make that's 'dorky'?" Maureen complained.

Jessica raised her eyebrows. "Quilts and curtains? Sweaters and socks? You're like Mrs. Claus or something. Maureen, your favorite winter hat is bright purple and has earflaps on it! Where's your dignity?"

"Are you kidding, Jess? This is Forks, Washington. You know better than me how cold it gets here. That hat keeps my head and ears warm. Fuck dignity." Maureen said.

Jessica rolled her eyes and turned towards Ashley Dowling, who was talking about a new song she'd downloaded onto her ipod.

Bella bit her lower lip, cheeks still streaked with blush.

"You're thinking things about me." Maureen said. "I can tell. Please feel free to say whatever's on your mind. It's hard to hurt my feelings."

"…you swear a lot." Bella practically mumbled. "You've got a bizarre sense of humor. And you're sarcastic. No one else here is."

"Yeah," Said Maureen. "You get used to it."

Maureen finished her hamburger, and tapped her hand on the table.

"But enough about me." Maureen said. "What about you?"

Bella frowned, the little crease between her eyes forming again.

_Blush and crease, that's all there is._ Maureen realized suddenly. _ She barely has any frown lines, or laugh lines. The creases that give a face ugly personality, she hasn't really got them. Just smooth perfection, marred only by blushing cheeks or that damn line on her forehead. It makes her look like a cute, outraged toddler. Or the toddler's stick figure drawing._

"What _about _me?" Bella asked.

"Tell me about yourself." Maureen encouraged.

"Well, I moved here from Phoenix Arizona, like I said." Bella began. "I live with Char—with my Dad, the Chief of Police. You know this, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. But that's not you." Maureen said. "That's where you were from and where you're living now. Tell me about yourself. What do you do?"

Bella seemed genuinely perplexed by the question.

"What do I do?" She repeated.

"For fun." Maureen says. "The things you like to do…Bella, hasn't anybody ever asked you what you _do_?"

"Yes." Bella said. But she sounded extremely unsure. She frowned again. "I read a lot. I do well in school. I like learning new things. I like reading the books they assign for school, and lots of other classics besides."

"I have choice words about our academic reading material, but everyone's tastes differ." Maureen said, nodding. "Reading is fun. What else?"

"Well, I do a lot of cooking and cleaning…I used to cook nearly all the meals at home."

"Like with your Mom?" Maureen recalled her own mother wistfully. They hadn't done things like cook or clean together, but they'd gone on such fabulous adventures.

Bella laughed. "No, my Mom's not really a reliable cook. I'm better at keeping track of meals, and the dry cleaning, and when the car's oil needed changing." Bella suddenly looked wistful herself.

_She misses her Mom._ Maureen thought. _That's something we both have in common._

"So you did _all _the chores back in Phoenix?" Maureen said.

Bella shrugged. "I liked doing them. My Mom's a little—"

"Scatterbrained?"

"Delightfully flighty." Bella smiled. "She's vivacious, really. Amazing to be around. I'm a lot less fun. My Mother says I was born middle-aged."

_Born mature, she means._ Maureen thought. _You're mature…no; you're_ supposed _to be mature. Forks says you're mature. But we're in high school. No one's mature in high school. Fuck, _I'm_ not mature, and I like to think of myself as the least idiotic person here._

"So you do your homework, and you cook." Maureen said. "No hobbies?"

"Huh?"

"No hobbies, no personal likes or dislikes, no areas you want to improve in?"

"I read." Bella said again. "I read books. And I definitely dislike the cold and wet…."

Bella proceeded to quietly rattle off a short list of things she preferred, and things she'd rather avoid. Her answers held all the depth of a 'what are you?' quiz from a teen magazine. Maureen was utterly befuddled.

"Do you have any flaws?" Maureen interrupted. She felt a cold knot growing in the pit of her stomach.

"Huh?"

"Flaws. Things that make you less-than-perfect." Maureen jerked her thumb towards Eric and Mike, whose argument had devolved into a heated conversation about surfing competitions. "Like the fact that I messed with Mike, and I'm not really sorry. What sort of flaws do _you_ have?"

Bella eyes widened. "Well, I'm sort of shy, I guess. And I can't play sports. I'm really clumsy. I trip over my own two feet half the time."

_That's not a flaw!_ Maureen shouted silently. _That's a light humiliation that can replace real brain shattering flaws. People have shortcomings, real failures that are in no way small or secretly advantageous. That's what makes a person a person._

Maureen looked down at the table, and spotted a notebook lying half open beside Bella. After a page of neat, detailed notes, there was another page that looked like someone had drawn on it.

"What's this?" Maureen snagged the notebook and flipped it open to that page.

The pink blush on Bella's cheeks deepened to crimson. "It's just a doodle." She said. "I draw designs in my notebook sometimes, when I'm thinking."

Maureen blinked. The 'design' was just a series of random loops within loops. Trivial scribbling; less than trivial. If these loops were the product of a mind deep in thought, Maureen had no desire to see that mind. It would be like looking into an empty box.

_You are literally no-person._ Maureen thought, struck dumb at the revelation. _Like a gutted tenement, nothing except steel beams and a brick façade. You have all the trappings of humanity, but nothing that makes an individual human. Your concerns and thoughts are literally limited to school, family and the weather. Is this why Edward can't read your mind? Because there's so little to read?_

Bella shrugged at Maureen, smiling slightly. "I doodle." She said. "It's one of the things I do."

"No, I don't think so." Maureen said gravely. "You don't really _do_ anything much, do you? But it's still more than the people around you. Why is that?"

Bella frowned, her forehead puckering yet again. "Huh?"

Maureen shook her head. "Never mind." She said digging into her lunch. "Never you mind."

_This place is a world of apathy and blank thought, beauty with no meaning behind it. _Maureen thought._ And Bella is beauty without flaw, maturity without sin, and a mind that's only intelligent as far as Forks encourages it to be. It's like Forks personified._

_I wonder how long this place has been waiting for her._

_

* * *

_

As always, read & review if you liked or disliked something!


	5. The Draw of Drama

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

* * *

The Draw of Drama

On some level, the theory had to be correct. Maureen was sure of it. Bella Swan's contrived personality was too appealing. Her existence—and her presence here—could not be a coincidence. Bella Swan was a living idol of Forks, endorsing innocent wisdom, apologetic judgment, and other such oxymorons.

That still didn't explain Edward Cullen's reaction, though. Why would Edward (who Forks loved as much as it adored Bella) feel the need to run for the hills at the sight and smell of her? Why would Edward have such a violent reaction to Bella's blood, especially when the other four—or six—Cullens didn't?

Maureen had long suspected that blood played a big part in how Forks framed things. It was evident in Maureen's own situation: the Cullens had realized Maureen wasn't quite human after smelling her. To vampires, Maureen's blood smelled of sour plants or rotten fruit, and was about as appetizing.

For the reverse to exist—a person who was just as mouthwatering as Maureen was off-putting—it didn't make sense. Forks was supposed to be about numbness, about living in a world without genuine strife or suffering. That was why Maureen had come here in the first place. For Bella Swan to breeze into town and cause spontaneous, contrived chaos went against the grain of this perspective.

Or so Maureen assumed. She had to admit she couldn't see the whole picture. There were still big pieces missing.

But after the stupefyingly vacuous conversation she'd had with Bella, that puzzle wasn't worth solving. Anything relating to a girl as empty and generic as Bella Swan was not worth Maureen's time. In fact, not caring about it was extremely important. If you stared at the abyss too long, the abyss stared back. And there was definitely plenty of abyss floating in those dull, chocolate-colored cow eyes.

So Maureen returned her attentions to her own passions. She spun about sixteen ounces of wool on her drop spindle, making two balls of one-ply thread, and then plying the two together to make a more durable yarn. She spent the weekend getting her homework out of the way, and then dyeing the wool yarn. Instead of depleting her small stockpile of expensive chemical dyes, she decided to use Kool-Aid instead. The only flavor they had in the house was Orange, but the experiment proved successful—the wool turned a cheerful tangerine color, and only lost a little of its hue as it dried.

Maureen took the fruit-colored ball of yarn to school with her on Monday, along with a set of 4 mm knitting needles. She planned to make a solid-colored scarf with raised stripes to give it texture. A pattern something like knit 2, purl 5 would work fine.

The idea was a good one…but the execution proved to be exceedingly difficult. Maureen was unable to cast on first thing in English, because Mr. Mason immediately tossed out a pop quiz. Maureen figured she did well enough, likely only missing one or two of the harder questions. But being surprised by a pop quiz like that put her in a grumpy mood, and she didn't start the scarf until class was almost over.

Her next class was Gym, so she couldn't work on the scarf anyway. And in Trigonometry Mr. Varner handed back tests from two weeks ago, which were, as he described them, "across the board failures". Maureen felt it prudent not to try working on the scarf when Varner was hurling abuse and glaring daggers at everyone in the room. So Maureen settled for staring sullenly back at her math teacher, silently questioning: _If all but three people in the class fail your stupid test, is it our fault, or yours?_

She hurried to her next class—it had been snowing since first period, but Maureen figured getting to Government early was worth the risk of slipping and falling. But when Edward Cullen walked past her on the path, Maureen almost dropped her needles.

_He's back._ All of Maureen's promises to herself about not paying attention to other people's stupidity flew out the window. She stopped walking.

_You're back. _Maureen didn't even try to control her train of thought. _Why are you back all of a sudden? Did you fix your insatiable appetite problem? Why did you think you could possibly hate the girl for that problem, by the by, when it's so clearly your fault? Do you have any idea how dumb this all looks from where I'm sitting? What's going on? _

The look Edward shot Maureen as he passed could have slaughtered baby chickens. The hatred and anal retentiveness of his glare was almost palpable. Maureen didn't bother shouting after him as he headed towards the Gym. Clearly Edward, so rarely willing to talk to anyone outside his own family, was_ really_ not in a mood to talk right now.

Needless to say, by the end of Government Maureen was looking forward to lunch, for the chance to sit by herself and actually get some work done on the damn scarf. She hadn't packed a meal, so she got on the lunch line again at the cafeteria.

All five Cullens were sitting at their regular table. They were smiling and laughing, Emmett shaking his head like a wet dog. Snow chunks were flying everywhere. The scene was funny, homely, and utterly fake.

_They look way too damn cheerful._ Maureen scowled. _ Can't anyone else see that they're trying too hard?_

Apparently not. Everyone else in the cafeteria was taking it as par for the course…except for Bella Swan. She was ahead of Maureen on the lunch line, not so subtly eyeing the Cullen family through her eyelashes. She looked a little queasy.

_You know what? I don't want to know._ Maureen asserted.

She bought her lunch and spent the rest of the period sitting at a table by herself, knitting and purling. Occasionally she would forget, and look up. There was tension strung between the Cullen table, and where Bella was sitting. Edward and Bella kept looking at each other, quickly averting their eyes when the other one raised their head for another glance.

_This is middle school bullshit, eyeballing each other across the damn room._ Maureen thought angrily. _I don't care if the Cullens have a secret to keep, Edward can at least try talking to her._

But the real bullshit was how Maureen, in spite of herself, kept looking at them. It wasn't even Forks trying to get her attention anymore, although the perspective kept muttering excitedly. It was Maureen's own interest that pulled her eyes up again and again. In the same way train wrecks and reality TV drew you in, Maureen found she didn't want to stop watching. Her hands kept moving, kept knitting…but her eyes always returned to the vampire and the girl.

The end of lunch bell rang, and Maureen stuffed her knitting into her bag, exiting the cafeteria. The snow had turned to icy rain, and Maureen could hear Mike complaining loudly from halfway down the path. She turned her face up into the rain, hoping that the cold and wet would bring her back to herself.

It helped a little. Maureen hung up her coat and hat in the entryway, and walked into the Biology classroom. Mike was standing in his usual spot next to Bella's desk, and Bella was encouraging him to go sit down. Maureen shuffled past Mike, gently bumping into him before she reached her desk. June was already sitting in her seat, and there was a microscope and a box of slides on the table.

"We have a lab today." June said, in a tone of voice that implied she knew she was stating the obvious; she was just irritated by it.

Maureen sat down, arranging herself comfortably. Edward entered the room on the tail end of the last clump of students, and walked slowly and carefully to his seat. Maureen pulled out her three-ring binder, and opened it to her science notes.

"My name is Edward Cullen. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

Edward's voice cut through the buzz of the room like a pale, tightass knife. Maureen could hear it very clearly.

_There's the talking he should've done at lunch._ Maureen nodded to herself. _Of course, if he didn't have to sit next to her and do a lab with her, he might've just stared angrily at her for eternity._

"H-how do you know my name?" Maureen heard Bella stammer. Embarrassed and endearing, just like she'd been last week.

Edward laughed gently—it sounded forced and awkward to Maureen. "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

_Unless they had better things to do._ Maureen thought.

"No, I mean why did you call me Bella?"

"Do you prefer Isabella?" Edward sounded confused.

_You'd know she doesn't, if you hadn't been gone. Except you do know, and that's because you—_

Maureen sat up.

"No, I like Bella. But Charlie—I mean my Dad—must call me Isabella behind my back—that's what everyone here seems to know me as."

"Oh."

_Hah!_ Maureen grinned. _She called him out. He's using information he picked up telepathically, and she noticed! And now he can't even think of a good excuse for how he knew. He's been using telepathy as a crutch for way too long; he's getting his comeuppance!_

_Wait a minute._ Maureen snapped back to reality. _This is getting too layered. Bella's paying too much attention to what most people know, compared to what Edward knows. A normal person would just appreciate that someone got her name right, or expect that word had gotten around on what she preferred to be called. Which is actually what happened in regards to me. She didn't need to correct me. But she didn't seem to care when_ I_ said 'Bella' instead. _

Mr. Banner started talking, explaining how the lab was a closed-book identification exercise. The slides were all different stages of mitosis, each table had to identify them and put them in the correct order.

"Ladies first, partner?"

Maureen's eyes were on her own box of slides, but she could sense the patronizing smile plastered across Edward's face.

_You, Edward Cullen, are a smug bastard all around._ Maureen thought.

Maureen very quickly lost interest in the lab. It was annoyingly simplistic in explanation, but extremely difficult to execute. Like Mr. Banner had given it to them just to remind his class that he was the smart one who knew science, and they didn't. Irritated, she pushed the slides towards June, and glanced over at Edward and Bella's table.

"Did you get contacts?" Came Bella's wooden, questioning tone.

Maureen choked back a laugh. For all her emptiness, Bella was incredibly perceptive.

Mr. Banner walked down the aisle, and Maureen turned her head back towards the slides June had spread across the table. Mr. Banner had stopped at Edward's table, and was telling them something. Maureen strained her ears…something about an advanced course in Phoenix.

"Yes." Bella responded.

_Oh yeah, she's smart._ Maureen rolled her eyes. _Smart smart smart. 'Cause Forks damn well says so._

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?"

Mr. Banner had moved away, and Edward and Bella were talking again. Maureen looked up. Edward looked like he was torn between smiling bemusedly at Bella, and making a very serious, demanding face. The contortions of his facial muscles would have been funny if they weren't so stupid.

"Not really." Bella said, eyes wide.

June tugged on Maureen's sleeve. "Hello? I need some help with this."

Exasperated, Maureen turned her head.

"You think I know any more than you do?"

"You're smart and stuff." June waved her hand, as if to indicate that Maureen's 'smart and stuff' would include knowing how to identify mitosis stages.

"This whole thing is a joke." Maureen said. "They don't look like the textbook pictures of mitosis we studied, so damned if we're going to be able to tell what they are."

Maureen tried to turn back to the conversation across the aisle.

"I think I can keep up." Edward appeared to be grilling Bella the same way Maureen had yesterday. His face was still torn between a serious scowl and patronizing smirk. Maureen wondered how it must look to Bella—as if Edward were constantly trying to hold back a laugh.

June pushed the microscope under Maureen's chin. "Check this one."

Maureen hastily close one eye, and peered into the microscope lens. "June, I can't tell. I don't care. Here, it's this." Maureen took the slide out and labeled it 'Interphase' on the sheet.

"It could be wrong." June said.

"I could care less." Maureen said, a bit louder than she should have. She looked around hastily, to make sure Mr. Banner hadn't heard her.

Mr. Banner was on the opposite side of the room, his back to Maureen. But Mike, sitting at the table behind her, was glaring daggers at Edward. Bella still looked like a wide-eyed, awkward horse. But she was obviously enraptured by Edward, cheeks flushed, listening closely to what he said.

And Mike was straining to hear what the two were saying, his lips pinched together in jealousy. He was ignoring his lab partner, his whole attention entirely on the vampire and the girl.

_Oh shit._ Maureen thought, feeling her own face burn with embarrassment. _I'm acting like _**Mike**.

_And the fact that I'm focusing on a Cullen to boot—argh!_

" You must be a good reader, then." Bella's voice cut through again, and Maureen looked up.

Edward smiled, baring his bleach-white teeth. "Usually."

_No, you still look like you're trying not to laugh!_ Maureen thought desperately. _That makes people feel inadequate. For the love of God, stop it._

Maureen tore her gaze away, focusing on the lab in front of her.

She and June got two of the five correct, which was more than Maureen had expected, given June's lack of confidence and Maureen's utter lack of concern. Maureen stole one more glance in Edward's direction when the period was almost over—he had this pained, constipated look on his face.

_That's how Jasper looks half the time._ Maureen bit her lip. _Should I be glad that Edward's in pain? Somehow it doesn't feel right. No one should be in pain here. This is a numb, contrived world…nobody should have to hurt unless they want to hurt._

The bell rang, and Edward bolted from his seat. Maureen, who had packed up her binder and textbooks two minutes before the bell rang, sedately got out of her chair and left the classroom.

Maureen saw Edward heading down the path towards the building where they had Spanish. She jogged to catch up with him—Edward was walking quickly, but not so quickly that it was impossible to reach him. He looked troubled, and completely lost in thought.

"Thanks for not committing murder in class." Maureen said, falling into step with him.

Edward whipped his head around. His eyes were dark, and it looked like he'd been panting, sucking in deep mouthfuls of cold air.

"Don't say things like that where people can hear you!" He hissed. But the retort was half-hearted, no fire behind it.

"No one can hear us." Maureen said. She cocked her head, giving Edward a probing look.

"You're distracted." She said. "Bella Swan is distracting you."

"I'm not talking to you." Edward said. "You're a danger—"

"Oh no you don't." Maureen said angrily. "Nuh-uh. That's not gonna fly anymore. I am _not _the biggest danger to your family. Rosalie proved that…she talked to me, and look, Ma! No catastrophe. I have been demoted to Public Enemy Number Two. And Public Enemy Number One is seriously distracting you…yes?"

Edward looked like he wanted to protest. But instead he just shrugged.

"She's….interesting."

Maureen laughed. "Edward, you're a terrible actor. That smug, collected expression isn't working at all. You look completely fazed. Admit it. You're all twisted up, not just because this girl's got irresistible blood, but because _you can't read her mind_. You have to rely on _social cues_, like a normal person. And you're screwing it up!"

"Be quiet." Edward snapped.

"No, I won't." Maureen said. "It's too fantastic. It's too predictable, too _you_. You've lost your ultimate weapon of douchebaggery, and you have to deal with the chick who took your gun away!"

Edward shook his head. He seemed to have given up the pretense of trying to look composed, and had settled for conflicted.

"It's not just that." He said. "It's not just the scent of her, or her hidden mind. She's not like anyone else."

"Yeah, I know." Maureen said, carefully stepping around a puddle of slushy water. "She's wooden, and poorly playacting as all hell."

"Oh, stop your jealous judgment!" Edward scoffed.

Maureen's eyes widened. "Jealous? Edward, you know me. When have I ever been jealous about popularity? Or beauty, for that matter?"

"Your cousin is." Edward remarked offhandedly. "Jessica is petty and conniving."

Maureen's mouth dropped open in outrage. But Edward had turned his head to the side as they walked, half-talking to himself.

"Her mother remarried, and wanted to travel with her new husband." Edward said. "So Bella came to live with her father, who wants her here. Her mother's happy, her father's happy. But Bella's unhappy…except she doesn't want people to see that. She doesn't want attention and validation from her peers, like everyone else in this school."

"Excuse me? _ I_ don't want attention and validation from my peers." Maureen said. "Except maybe right now. Hello? We were having a conversation?" She waved a hand at Edward's head.

"She doesn't want to be here." Edward continued, completely oblivious to Maureen's hand gesture. "But she is here. She's _selfless_."

"Selfless." Maureen said sourly. "Yeah, I get that. I see she has no self. Lacks even more of an identity than the people Forks dismisses as wallpaper, those who have next to no individuality. She's just like them…and yet Forks is all for her. I'm puzzled all to shit."

But Edward had stopped listening entirely. He was moving away from Maureen, staring into nothing. He'd drifted off into his own internal retarded wonderland.

They reached the building, and stepped inside. Emmett Cullen was waiting outside the door of the Spanish classroom. He nodded absentmindedly at Maureen, his eyes focusing on his brother.

"Nobody died." Edward abruptly mumbled. Maureen took that as her cue to slip past the pale, muscular men and find her seat.

The two vampires stepped into the classroom soon after, and sat in their accustomed seats. They continued talking—or rather, Edward continued muttering while Emmett's face changed expression—until Edward suddenly jumped up from his seat. He apologized to the teacher, and bolted out the door. Emmett followed him.

Maureen shrugged, and pulled out her knitting needles. _Purl 3, 4, 5, Knit 1, 2…_the needles clicked together, the tangerine yarn flying through Maureen's fingers. By and by Emmett came back into the classroom, and explained in Spanish that Edward was feeling poorly, and had gone to the nurse. Senora Goff nodded, and Emmett returned to his seat. Maureen clenched her fingers, pushing the half-done scarf down to the base of the knitting needle.

This was getting stupider and stupider by the minute. A girl who was inexplicably perfume-scented and even more inexplicably adored despite her lack of interesting qualities was causing Edward McTightass to wax poetic with conflict and ditch class so he could go cry in his Volvo. It wasn't just bizarre and advocating run-on sentences. It was nonsensical and _contrived_. It had all the realism of a narrated movie preview. But it _was _real. It was the most real thing here. Forks insisted it was.

Maureen didn't realize she was audibly grinding her teeth until she saw Emmett looking her way. The large vampire leaned towards her, his bulk crossing nearly two rows of desks.

"You—er, _usted parece enojado_." Emmett said.

The simple concern in his voice was evident. Either in the couple of months Maureen had been speaking to the Cullens before their falling-out, Emmett had decided he liked Maureen…or Rosalie really did appreciate Maureen's presence, and had impressed on her husband that Maureen was a friend. Perhaps both.

Maureen eyed the knitting needle in her hand. "I am strongly considering—"

"_En Español por favor, Senorita Stanley_!" Senora Goff called. The woman was a kind teacher, and fairly oblivious to most things. But she could hear someone _**not**_speaking Spanish from a mile away.

Maureen's eyelid twitched. "—_puñaladas de mí en el ojo_." She muttered quietly.

"_No haga estro_." Emmett said. "_Seria doloroso_."

Maureen burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. When Senora Goff shot her a disapproving look, it was all she could do to stutter out a '_perdón_' and keep her giggles smothered until they finally subsided.

* * *

I'm not too great with foreign languages. I translated to the best of my ability.

_Usted parece enojado. _– You look angry.

_Puñaladas de mí en el ojo._ – Stabbing myself in the eye.

_No haga estro._ – Don't do that.

_Seria doloroso. _– It would be painful.


	6. Crash Into Whoever

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

* * *

Crash Into Whoever

It snowed overnight. On top of that, the rain preceding the abrupt temperature drop had coated a slick layer of ice over every outdoor surface. Maureen looked out the window as she ate a bowl of cheerios, wincing as her next-door neighbor nearly did a faceplant on the sidewalk while taking his dog out to pee. Poor MacGuffin the terrier almost lost his footing too, despite the humiliating tartan booties he was wearing.

Aunt Joan took one look outside, and shook her head. "I'm taking you kids to school today." She said. "The idea of either of you driving around on this stuff makes me uncomfortable."

Maureen grunted into her cereal. Jess made a vague protest, but neither of them were really willing to make an argument. It was too early, and both of them had been up late. After breakfast Maureen bundled herself up in a turtleneck sweater and a pair of wool trousers, tying her snowboots on tightly.

Despite Joan's worry, the drive to school was without hazard. The main road had been salted within an inch of its life, and the car had four-wheel drive anyway. Aunt Joan dropped Jessica and Maureen off right outside the parking lot, and drove away.

"I bet it was nice for you in Sacramento. Getting to wear skirts and sandals in the middle of winter, I mean." Jessica commented. The two cousins stood side by side, watching their peers flounder about on the icy ground.

"There _is_ benefit to living in a sunny, warm climate." Maureen agreed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maureen saw the Cullens standing by Edward's Volvo, collecting their things.

"It's settled, then." Jess said. "When I go to college, I'm only applying to places that have an all time low of sixty-five degrees farenheit. It'll be like Spring Break, but for the whole year. And then I'll do a study abroad program in Cancun."

Maureen laughed. "Jess, you're awesome."

On a whim, Maureen turned and gave Jessica a large bear hug. Jessica put up her hands, which she couldn't raise above the elbows because of Maureen's squashing embrace.

"Whoa, hey." Jessica said. She sounded bemused, but also puzzled. "You feeling okay?"

"It's been a shitty week." Maureen admitted, still holding on to Jess. "But you didn't cause any of it, and you say the funniest things, and even though you do dumb shit sometimes, you know what you want, and you go for it. And you're vibrant, and you emote, and you are the best cousin ever."

_And deep down, one of the nicer people I know. _Not_ petty and conniving, dammit._

Jessica laughed, and attempted to pat Maureen awkwardly on the back. "Okay, okay. Glad to know I'm so cool. I like you too. Can you let go, though? I'm feeling kind of like a blob of play-doh, here. Very squished."

Maureen let go of Jessica. "Sorry."

"Oh, no big. I just don't want bruises of affection all on…my…arms…" Jessie's sentence died out as a sudden, horrible screeching noise echoed across the parking lot.

There was a sickening crunch, the sound of metal on metal. Maureen whipped her head around. Tyler Crowley's van was slammed up against the back end of Bella Swan's orange monstrosity of a truck. And the van was still moving, practically curling in on itself. There was another sickening crunch as the van skidded up on two tires, then crashed back down to the ground. The whole thing was over in less than five seconds.

Jess let out a short scream of genuine horror. Maureen half felt like screaming herself—her heart had stopped at that dreadful crunching noise, and only just now did it start again, blood thumping in her ears.

_Oh God._ She thought.

Everyone was racing towards the two cars; there was a lot of shouting. Jess was bolting too. She'd grabbed Maureen's arm, but it slipped out of her hand as she moved. Maureen remained where she was, virtually frozen to the ground.

She watched as Edward Cullen stood up from between the two cars. She watched as the ambulances arrived, and Tyler Crowley was extracted from the van, his head bleeding profusely. She watched as a gaggle of adults strained to shift the van away from the truck, so they could get to Edward and Bella.

A few police cars arrived shortly after the emergency vehicles. The whole parking lot was in utter chaos. Maureen watched as Tyler and Bella were put on stretchers and loaded into ambulances. Bella had a neck brace on, and she looked like she was about to die from embarrassment.

_I think your priorities are misplaced._ Maureen thought hysterically.

Edward climbed into the cab of one of the ambulances and the emergency vehicles sped away, sirens blaring. Students were climbing in their cars and driving after them.

Maureen heard a noise, and turned her head. Rosalie was standing next to her, arms crossed tightly over her black peacoat.

"I got an earful for talking to you, you know." Rosalie said by way of greeting.

"Uh?" Maureen said.

Rosalie continued, her voice a mixture of anger and self-righteousness. "I got chewed out, as if telling you what was going on with our family was some horrible breach. I can count on _one hand_ the people outside my family I'm allowed to be honest with. I hate that. But I accept it, because it keeps us safe."

"But what do I care now." Rosalie continued. She gestured wildly towards the crash. "What do I care about the risk of talking to you now, do you see what **he** just did?"

"He was between the cars." Maureen said.

"He raced at inhuman speed to the cars, threw her down and left _dents _pushing the van out of the way." Rosalie said. "In the middle of a crowded parking lot!"

"…he saved Bella's life?" Maureen asked.

It wasn't funny. None of it was. But Maureen suddenly felt like laughing. This whole situation was just layering on itself, getting more emotionally jumbled by the second. Now Edward wasn't just tormented, he was a tormented _hero_. And Forks was cheering.

"That lunatic has risked everything!" Rosalie said. "Moving impossibly fast and acting impossibly strong the way he did, people could have seen all of it. This is a disaster!"

"No, Rosalie." Maureen said. She tried to speak quietly, but she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. "This is a _car accident_. A real car accident. I don't care what else happened, what Edward did—"

—_what Forks caused_—

"—It was a collision, and people could have died. Luckily, no one did. That's all that matters."

"We could be exposed by this fiasco." Rosalie insisted. "Emmett's going to destroy any evidence, but even if no one else saw anything odd, the girl saw everything Edward did. She was _right there_. She's even more of a liability than she was before! She's a threat that needs to be dealt with."

"So you've got to what, kill her?" Maureen shook her head. "I can't take this crap. Bella Swan hasn't done anything…actually, that's why I think she's annoying. She does nothing. But that doesn't mean she deserves to die. She hasn't killed anyone, or committed some horrible atrocity. "

Maureen pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Forget this. I'm going home."

"What?" Rosalie said.

"Yesterday was full of intense stupidity." Maureen explained. "This day can only get stupider, so I'm using the opportunity to get the fuck out of dodge."

Rosalie eyed the remaining students, who were watching as the policemen made calls from their cars. Emmett was standing behind the gaggle of teens, and subtly (or as subtly as Emmett could do anything) examining the cars.

"They'll probably be ditching too." Rosalie said, nodding towards the spectators. "Along with however many kids didn't head straight for the hospital in their cars, to see what happens next. Everyone loves to watch."

"Well, I'm tired of watching catastrophes." Maureen said. "This compulsion to stare at train wrecks is awful. I'm going home. I don't need to see any more of this."

"The four of us will probably stay here." Rosalie said. "To keep up appearances. But Edward was in an ambulance…maybe it would make more sense if we went to check up on him. You could come with me to the hospital if you'd like."

"While I appreciate the invite, no thanks." Maureen said. "I imagine your family has to figure out a few things. As much as I enjoy being in the know, it's really not my place to stand in the corner while you hash things out."

"The end result won't be pleasant." Rosalie said darkly. "We might have to leave, very abruptly. Or take other drastic measures."

"Please don't kill anyone." Maureen said. Rosalie raised an eyebrow.

"You care about that girl?"

"I care about not snuffing out life." Maureen said. "Whether vampire, human, or God-knows-what-else, killing a person not cool."

"But sometimes necessary."

Maureen shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. She said. "I'm done for now."

Maureen walked off. Rosalie held up a hand in farewell, and Maureen returned the gesture. It wasn't until Maureen reached the edge of the parking lot that she remembered that Jessica's Mercury was back home in the Stanley's garage.

"Oh, hell." She said.

Maureen scanned the parking lot, but there was no sign of Jessica. Likely she'd hitched a ride to the hospital with someone. Maureen started walking again, not really caring where her legs took her. She wandered aimlessly, meandering across the parking lot and over the soccer field. It was a little less icy on the snow-covered grass, and Maureen's boots made a pleasant crunching noise on the frozen snow.

By and by, she found herself at the treeline that marked the end of school property. She stepped into the forest, and walked about twenty yards before stopping.

"I haven't been in the woods in months." Maureen said softly. "Not since winter began. It's soothing, being out here. I should go foraging the woods behind my house, soon. It would be fun to make linen again."

It wouldn't take long for the hemp and nettle shoots to start sprouting. Spring was just around the corner. The miserable weather wouldn't last much longer, and soon there would be an explosion of vibrant greenery around the whole of Forks.

_This is what I am._ Maureen thought soberly. _This is, in some ways, all I am. Human beings eat, breathe and die. I feel fiber plants in the ground, make cloth, and listen to this awful contrived place tell me how excited it is that Edward saved Bella Swan's life._

"I could leave." Maureen said out loud, without even thinking. Her eyes widened as the words escaped her mouth, unbidden and unexpected.

_I could—_

Maureen leaned over on bent knees, and wrapped her arms around herself. She bowed her head.

"No no no no no." Maureen murmured frantically. She couldn't. She wouldn't. This place was numb. This place was safe. It was all she'd ever need. What did it matter if Forks was contrived and inane?

A wave of memories threatened to push into the fore of Maureen's mind. She pushed them back down. The past was the past. She didn't need to go back. Or forward. She could stay where she was.

"It's fine here." Maureen said to the air. "I'm fine."

* * *

Read & Review! : )


	7. Blondes Have Less Fun

I posted ten chapters before I stopped writing; those chapters have been CONDENSED and REWORKED into the first seven chapters. So you might want to start reading from the beginning, to refresh yourselves and check for anything that's changed.

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Blondes Have Less Fun

Maureen ended up walking home from school. It took a ridiculous amount of time, even when she stopped hobbling through the snowplow drifts on the side of the road, and started cutting across fields and private property. Maureen tried to look on the bright side. Walking gave her a chance to clear her mind, to think about nothing but her feet and the glare of the white snow. It would have been blinding, but the sun wasn't out. The sun was never out.

She spent the rest of the day wrapped up in two afghan blankets, finishing the tangerine scarf. When she was done, she impulsively wrapped the whole thing around her head, and lay back on the couch.

"Are you auditioning for the world's most colorful mummy?" Jessica asked when she got home.

"Did you skip school?" Aunt Joan sounded like she wanted to scold Maureen, but couldn't find a good reason to under the circumstances.

"Jess skipped school at the hospital." Maureen pointed out, her defense muffled by orange wool.

"Yeah, but I went back. I can't believe we saw a car crash! Bella was so lucky! Tyler too, even though he hit his head."

Maureen tried to put her hands over her ears, but her arms were pinned down by blankets. She settled for burying her face in the crease between the cushions as Jess sat down on the couch. Jessica put Maureen's feet on her lap, and proceeded to tell her all about the waiting room at the county hospital, how everyone had crowded in, and while Tyler had a concussion (and might lose his driver's license) Edward and Bella weren't injured.

"This sort of thing _does not happen_, Maureen." Jess explained. "Especially to a new person, a new _girl_. Everybody's going to be buzzing around Bella."

"…they weren't before?"

When Maureen went back to school, everything looked normal. The dented cars had been towed, and except for an especially thick layer of salt, the parking lot looked no different than it had twenty-four hours ago. Students walked from class to class, teachers continued with their lesson plans.

But Jess had been absolutely right. Bella was the center of a whirlwind of activity. People kept crowding around her, asking her to explain the accident over and over again. Their table was so crowded with people trying to squeeze in, that half of them couldn't put their trays on the table. Maureen took one look at the cluster of teenage bodies, and made a beeline for the coatroom.

She ate her lunch in the woods, just beyond the soccer field. After hearing an endless hum of voices for seven hours every weekday, the contrasting silence of a winter forest was both eerie and pleasant. Every now and then a tree branch would snap under the weight of snow, or an animal up from its hibernating nap would make noises. But there was nothing else, except the sound of the wind.

And then there were footsteps crunching in the snow. Maureen turned. Rosalie was passing through the treeline, quickly moving towards her. She looked very sedate—like it was a casual pace for her, despite the speed.

Maureen's eyes scanned the blonde. Her ensemble, as usual, made her look like a model for J. Crew's Winter Catalogue. But she wasn't wearing gloves.

It had ceased to bother Maureen that the Cullens and Hales all looked like walking corpses, with dead flesh and bruised eyes. She could ignore it, or accept it as normal. But somehow the lack of handwarmers threw the whole picture off. Even a fashionable girl would have some kidskin gloves in this weather. But Rosalie didn't need them. She simply was not human. Not evil, just…not human.

"I thought you'd gone to the ladies' room." Rosalie said. "But you weren't there."

"You tried to follow me into the bathroom again?" Maureen gave Rosalie a level look. "You do understand that people like to have _privacy _when they use the toilet, right?"

Rosalie frowned. "I gave you plenty of time to finish your business. I wanted to catch you up on things. Talk to you again."

"So talk." Maureen patted the log she was sitting on. "Here, sit down. I don't feel like moving."

Rosalie wrinkled her nose. "I'll stand, thank you. If I sit, I'll have to walk around for the rest of the day with giant wet spots on the seat of my pants."

Maureen laughed. "You're such a prissy girl."

"I'm sure you of all people would respect the fact that these pants are dryclean only." Rosalie shot back. "Why are you out here, anyway?"

"To get away from the rat gallery." Maureen said. "Or the peanut race. Whatever you want to call it."

She looked out across the strip of woodland, towards the soccer field. "It's nice back here. I'm cold, but it's nice."

A tiny flurry of snow floated down from the trees. Maureen noticed that Rosalie's face was dusted with unmelted snowflakes.

"Bella's still alive." Rosalie said.

"I saw that. Thanks."

"We…decided to continue on as usual." Rosalie said. "We will stay here, and Bella won't be harmed."

The expression on Rosalie's face was difficult to read.

"That's it?" Maureen said. "After all the fuss and worry? I mean; I'm relieved your family doesn't plan on committing murder. But what gives?"

"We had a family conference." Rosalie said. "At the dining room table."

"I might pay money to see that." Maureen said.

"We discussed the situation, and certain things came to light." Rosalie said. She was beginning to speak faster, emotion coming into her voice. "It's unbelievable. And perfectly ironic. If it weren't so serious, it would be a farce!"

"This situation is already a farce." Maureen said. "Edward's got issues with this girl, yes. But he's blowing it out of proportion. Frankly, I think all of you are."

"Blowing it out of proportion? Us? This is a dire situation, Maureen!"

"Not as dire as you guys are making it. You're feeding on the drama."

_And so am I._ Maureen thought, irritated. True, she wasn't exaggerating the drama, or pushing it forward. But she had been watching it. A sane person would have looked away, and not given a shit.

"Well,_ you're _the one who insists that killing her isn't a viable option." Rosalie said. "You and Edward both."

"Oh, do _not _compare me to Edward!" Maureen said. "I'm not wasting my time angsting about Bella Swan and her delicious blood, whining and moping and spouting soliloquies. This is mostly Edward's fault, if you want my opinion."

"He _is_ refusing to neutralize the problem." Rosalie agreed.

"That's not what I meant." Maureen said. "Instead of dealing with things rationally, Edward just wants to dance around Bella, drawing out the drama and fascination of his stupid blood obsession. He can't move beyond his own issues with Bella, so he keeps staring at her despite the fact that he blames her and he hates her."

"No, he doesn't _hate_ her." Rosalie's voice was full of amused contempt. "He's going to love her."

Maureen blinked. "…WHAT?"

Maureen sprang to her feet, dusty snow flying off her pants. She took a few steps towards Rosalie, searching her face for some hint that she was kidding.

"Alice saw that Bella was going to be her friend." Rosalie said. "And that Edward will fall in love with her. But I saw_ that _part coming. I knew it the second he saved her life. The oblivious _fool_."

Maureen gaped.

"There are a couple different things that could happen." Rosalie said, rolling her eyes. "But what Alice definitely saw was that Edward is going to love Bella Swan, if he doesn't already. Head-over-heels, intense, romantic—'

"CHRIST ON CEREAL!"

She should have known. Now that Rosalie had said it, the whole thing was obvious. But so_ stupid_, so_ contrived_. It was out of nowhere.

"What far off left field in China did_ this_ come from?" Maureen said.

"I don't know." Rosalie sneered. "It's ridiculous. It's such an Edward thing, to fall for a _human_."

_She says 'human' like she meant 'helpless little kitten'._ Five minutes ago Maureen might have called her out on that. But now her head was whirling.

"This whole mess is contrived, intricate drama!" Maureen spat. "Neither of them has a personality to fall in love _with_! Not unless you count 'generic' and 'manic depressive' as personalities. This is like the fucking classics they make us read, that everybody idealizes. Oh Romeo! Juliet, I love you! Never mind that we're teenagers who have no idea what we're doing! Oh Cathy, oh Heathcliff! Never mind that neither of us would recognize an emotionally healthy relationship if it bit us in the ass! This mild, milkteeth oh-my-darling-i-love-you-forever-even-though-i-know-nothing-about-you crap is unbelievably STUPID!"

The last word echoed through the trees. Maureen listened hard, but Forks was being complacently silent. Nothing Maureen had just said was having any effect on the delusional tower of bricks Forks had built.

_Why is Forks doing this? Is everyone here really that much of a puppet?_

"No." Maureen said out loud, half to herself. "Forks may be trying to stage itself a little teen-drama play, but Edward's _responding_ to the bait, being a mopey emo jackass. And Bella seems to be going along with it too, with all the blushing."

"I imagine she_ does_ like him." Rosalie said.

She had remained calm during Maureen's explosion. But her voice was dripping with contempt.

"Most human girls find him attractive. For all we know, she thinks he stares at her because he finds her pretty, not because he wants to suck her dry."

"The two could easily be confused." Maureen agreed wearily.

Maureen perked up a little._ Actually, in some misinterpreted poorly articulated manner, it makes perfect sense. For once. Edward wants to drink her blood, so he feels love towards her. Both involve intense, passionate feelings. It's an old trope. Vampirism is supposed to be a metaphor for syphilis, and by extension se—_

Forks abruptly began shouting.

Maureen made a pained face. "Ow."

"What?" Rosalie asked.

Maureen shook her head in irritation.

"Do you know that this place hates sex?" She said. "Like, really hates it. Forks is all for pure, true love, all for marriage, all for babies…but would love to leave sex out of the picture. It's like sex is the _s-word_…you're not supposed to say it, not supposed to do it out of wedlock, or even _think about it when you're doing it_ in wedlock. Sex exists only so Forks can object loudly to it, shuffle it under the rug, and pretend it isn't there."

Rosalie scoffed. "That's stupid." She said. "Emmett and I think about sex. We have sex all the time. Sometimes kinky sex, if we're in the right mood."

Forks started screaming again, and Maureen winced, putting her hands to the side of her head. "Yeah, Forks knows about that. That's why Forks thinks you're a narcissistic bitch, and that Emmett is a simple, goodhearted idiot."

Rosalie's mouth dropped open. "I'm sorry, _who _is saying this?"

"Forks." Maureen put her hands down. "This place. I can't really explain it better, the damn perspective just talks to me. Look, forget it. Is there more to this ridiculous turn of events?"

"Alice sees two futures. In one, Bella might become a vampire." Rosalie said bluntly. "Like us. Or, Edward will kill her."

"Fantastic choice spread you've got there."

Of course, Edward wants to resist the whole thing, and do neither." Rosalie said. "Even I know that sort of thing doesn't work. You'd think a man—a _vampire_—with multiple graduate degrees in Psychology and Biology would be a little more aware of how the world works."

"Multiple degr—okay, you guys wasting your time in high school is now even more pathetic." Maureen said. "But Forks loves Edward. So Forks will help him do what he wants. Which means not killing Bella, or turning her into a vampire. Keeping himself strung taut between the two options."

"But only because Edward thinks he should be in pain." Maureen explained. "So he _puts_ himself in pain. Eventually he'll think maybe he should be allowed a little happiness, and he'll let himself have it."

"So you think he _will_ fall in love." Rosalie said.

"Not for a long while." Maureen said irritably. "If Forks is playing the drama game, the unrequited pre-dating tension will get stretched out for as long as possible."

"Stop talking about Forks!" Rosalie spat. Maureen looked up, startled. The blonde vampire stood there, clenching her fists. She wasn't baring her teeth or hissing, but she looked pissed off.

"I don't understand what you mean when you say that." Rosalie said angrily. "None of us do. You don't mean the, the _mythical spirit_ of this stupid town—"

"No." Maureen said.

Rosalie's face relaxed a little. "Then you mean God—"

"Not God as you'd think of him." Maureen explained. "Not a white male Jesus figure, or any other god. It's different. It's like a giant mind. Utterly inhuman, in that way."

"So you mean the world?"

"Yes, Forks is the world." Maureen said. "But that's still the wrong word. It's a perspective. It's a way of looking at things. Like how a Conservative and a Liberal see the world so differently, they might as well be living in different universes. This is the same principle, but more extreme."

Rosalie nodded. But she looked distracted.

"He won't fall in love with her." Rosalie said. She shook her head. "Not even if Forks—or whatever—wants him too. He can't. He's an emotional neuter."

"Whoa!" Maureen held up her hands. "I agree that Edward is fucked in the head, but that's a nasty thing to say about your brother."

"He wasn't meant to be my brother. He was meant to be my mate."

That stopped Maureen's train of thought like a locomotive smashing into a cement wall.

"What?"

"When I became a vampire." Rosalie's was staring into the middle distance. Her expression was pensive, and sad.

"Carlisle saved me. I'd been—" Rosalie paused. She locked eyes with Maureen, gold boring into gray. There was a long pause.

"I was about to die." Rosalie finally said. "And Carlisle saved me. Our venom will burn in the human bloodstream for days before the transformation is complete. I begged to be put out of my misery, but Carlisle wouldn't—he wasn't trying to be cruel. But it was just him, Edward and Esme at the time. We didn't have the others yet. And he had the idea that I could be Edward's mate. A companion, like Esme was for Carlisle."

Maureen didn't know how to respond. Sympathy was probably appropriate, given Rosalie's pain. But Maureen found it hard to be sympathetic to anyone's pain here. So much of the suffering that went on in this place was exaggerated, if not outright fake. It devalued worse kinds of pain.

"That's kind of sick, to be honest." Maureen finally said. "A pretty normal thing for a vampire to do, all things considered. But still very messed up."

"It _was_ a sick idea." Rosalie said angrily. "Even if Carlisle meant well. I didn't want a mate. And Edward didn't want me."

"I don't love Edward like that. I never have, never will. But he should have loved me. You'd think—you'd think he would have. I'm beautiful. But he's emotionally incapable. He's a permanent virgin. He can't fall in love at all!"

_You mean if he can't fall in love with you, then clearly he can't love anybody._ Maureen grimaced. Rosalie was being especially narrow-minded and narcissistic, and she didn't seem to realize it. The fact that this place _wanted _her to be that way only excused so much.

"I'd venture that if Edward falls, it won't be in love." Maureen said. "Probably into an even more dramatic obsession. Or a very deep hole."

Rosalie laughed, her cross expression giving way to amusement.

"She's not even that good-looking, this Isabella Swan." Rosalie said, matter-of-factly.

Maureen shrugged. "She doesn't have to be. She's every girl who isn't you. Every girl who dreams of being blonde and beautiful, and waits for the day when someone will pick her over the more obvious, better choice."

"I _am _the better choice." Rosalie looked satisfied, and impertinent. "Emmett is a lucky man. And I'm a lucky girl, for having him."

_Nice to know you're capable of gratitude, despite the vanity._ Maureen thought good-naturedly.

"You know, I appreciate you telling me all this." Maureen said, changing the subject. "Keeping me in the know, and trusting me."

Rosalie smiled. "It's not just for your benefit. I so rarely get to gossip with anyone besides Alice. If you listen, I'll talk."

Maureen grinned back. "Then screw keeping a safe distance."

The first end-of-lunch bell echoed across the field. The two girls left the forest, and headed back towards the school.

* * *

OKAY! We're caught up. Thanks everyone, for dealing with my long hiatus and re-working of the chapters. Next time I am definitely not posting a story until it's all done.

But Spinner In Forks: Twilight is completely written right now. So I'm going to post the 8th Chapter, then post one chapter every other day. Thanks a bunch for your patience. I hope I can get a BOATLOAD of different people to review this story, because I want to know what everyone is thinking.


	8. The Inferior Gender

Like I said at the end of the last chapter, thanks for your patience at the long hiatus I took. This story is done, so it should all be posted in the next few weeks—I'm going to put up a new chapter every other day, hopefully.

If you've got any questions about the changes in the previous chapters (which were fairly minimal) or would just like to comment, feel free.

* * *

The Inferior Gender

Life went on. School went on. Students kept pestering Bella about the car wreck—teachers too, albeit with more tact. But everyone was always disappointed at the lack of embellishment when she recounted the incident. Not only did she keep her trap shut about Edward's super-rescue, she made the event sound as objective and uninteresting as a police report. Brief sentences, all fact.

Maureen found herself respecting Bella for that, albeit grudgingly. This was not some wild, TV show adventure. It was an accident involving multiple tons of steel, and people could have died.

Maureen chose to leave the girl alone, which wasn't hard. Bella was the kind of person Maureen normally went out of her way to avoid. But it was like walking against the breeze on a blustery day. Maureen moved, but the wind still blew past her. It was mostly Tyler Crowley's fault. Where the most popular boy in the Junior class went, many, many people followed. Maureen couldn't really fault Tyler for that. He was a charismatic guy, and he worked hard at school and sports. His popularity was deserved.

She _could_ fault him for being an ignorant jackass. He had gotten it into his head that the best way to show Bella he was sorry for nearly killing her was to shower her with attention. He seemed willfully blind to Bella's insistence that he forget the whole thing. Either Tyler thought she was playing hard to get, or Forks was pushing Tyler, trying to make him look unappealing to Bella. Perhaps a little of both.

Maureen avoided the cafeteria like the plague for weeks after the accident. She was sick of seeing that uncomfortable, hedged-in expression on Bella's face. If it had been Edward looking so flustered and miserable, Maureen would have laughed herself sick. But Bella—Maureen could imagine herself in that position. See herself being hounded by swarms of people, and disliking it just as much. So it wasn't funny. Just sad.

The Cullens—even Edward—were being left alone, as usual. People tended to avoid them, despite how ripe they were as a subject of gossip. Maureen remembered Rosalie telling her it was some kind of prey-senses-predator thing, a biological instinct. Students felt that the Cullens were weird. Combined with the family's antisocial behavior, it kept people away. Maureen didn't feel it, though…she just thought the Cullens looked stupid. Maybe being not-quite-human helped her see through the bullshit.

Maureen found herself in Rosalie's company frequently. Whenever Maureen went to eat outside in the woods, Rosalie would follow her. At first Maureen wanted to complain that Rosalie was being creepy and stalker-ish. But then Maureen realized that Rosalie was only stalking her because Maureen never _invited_ her to come along. And being a socially stunted vampire, Rosalie had forgotten to ask.

So Maureen started being more forward. She initiated conversations, and talked with Rosalie in the hallways if their paths to different classes intersected. And she asked Rosalie to sit in the woods with her, once Rosalie had finished 'eating' with her family.

"You spend fifteen minutes picking at your food for the sake of looking normal." Maureen commented. "But it's all there on your plate at the end. Anybody could see that. Wouldn't it be better to just eat it, even if you have to go puke it up later?"

"It's like dirt, or grass." Rosalie explained. "I can eat it if I want to, but every instinct is telling me to spit it out. I'd rather just make a mess."

"And waste food." Maureen muttered.

Whenever they were outside and away from people, Rosalie would drop all pretense of humanity, and fill Maureen in on what it was like to live in a house of vegetarian vampires with random superpowers.

There wasn't much to report, Maureen found. Emmett and Jasper played video games. Alice picked up random hobbies, and dropped them just as easily. Esme watched the Home & Gardening channel, Carlisle worked long shifts at the hospital. And Edward moped around at the piano, still bothered by the Bella Situation. It was making the whole family antsy, but nothing was being done about it. Except that Alice kept nagging Edward to 'let her meet Bella'.

"Did Alice's feet get chopped off?" Maureen asked. "She can walk over to Bella and introduce herself at any time!"

"She's waiting for Edward to say it's okay." Rosalie said.

"Cripes. So, what was up with that engine project you mentioned?" Whenever Maureen got tired of hearing about the Bella Situation (as she'd coined it) she just changed the subject to something like vehicle repair. Rosalie was apparently a genius car mechanic, and Maureen could identify with the 'obsessive hobby' part. Their conversations frequently bounced back and forth between things like engine coils and loom headles.

As the obnoxiousness of sitting in the cafeteria toned down, Maureen spent more time indoors, where she could knit without fear of frostbite. But she still sat with Rosalie in the woods once or twice a week. And it was getting a bit warmer. The ice storm that had caused the car accident was probably the last of the season.

"The Spring Dance is coming up." Jess remarked excitedly one evening during dinner. "It's girls choice. Are you going to ask anyone, Maureen?"

"Nope." Maureen said cheerfully, passing the string beans to her Uncle. "You?"

"Mike, hopefully." Jessica smiled. "I need to make sure it's okay first."

"Well, when you ask the Newtons for permission to court their son, remember to wear your best boots and a starched cravat." Maureen said.

"I have no idea what that means, and I don't care." Jessica declared.

Maureen was working on her loom later that night, when someone knocked on her door. She pushed the beater frame back, and turned her head. "Come in."

Jessica stepped into her room, and shut the door behind her. She sat down in the chair at Maureen's desk, looking down at her hands.

Maureen swiveled around on her stool. "Jessie, what's wrong?" She asked.

When Jessica was excited, she tended to speak quickly without pause for breath. Now her words came out slower.

"I called Mike. I asked him if he wanted to go to the Spring Dance." Jessica said. "But he told me he needed time to think about it."

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me._

"Well, I think Mike is making shit up out of whole cloth." Maureen said bluntly.

Jessica snorted. "When _you_ say that, it sounds like an awful pun. How is he making shit up?"

"…Do you want me to comfort you, or tell you what I think?" Maureen asked.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at Maureen. "You know, asking that question kind of cancels out the comfort option."

Maureen scratched her head, abashed. "Sorry. But I have a theory about why Mike put you on hold."

"But I checked first! I called Bella." Jess protested.

"Thank you for pointing out the pink elephant before I had to." Maureen said.

"She said wasn't going." Jessica said. "I don't get it. Girls are supposed to ask the guys to this dance."

"We are the dominant gender in this context, yes." Maureen said.

"Right! So Mike's supposed to be free. He shouldn't…argh!"

Jessica threw up her hands, unwilling to finish her sentence.

"Look, Jess. Plain and simple, he said he'd think about it." Maureen said. Telling the truth wasn't going to calm Jessie down, she might as well backtrack to comfort. "So he'll think about it, and get back to you. Be patient."

Jessica was still glum the next morning, and the lack of happy chatter left an awkward silence in its place. She let Maureen drive the Mercury, without any of the usual 'it's my turn to drive' banter. The trip to school bordered on depressing, and Maureen turned on the radio just to make some noise.

"Are you going to be okay?" Maureen asked Jessica as they got out of the car. "Because I'm here if you need me."

Jessica cracked a smile. "Don't worry, Maureen. I'll be fine."

True to her word, Jessica distracted herself by gossiping with friends and giving Mike the cold shoulder. Maureen rolled her eyes, and kept herself busy by re-sketching the weaving pattern she'd drafted for her loom.

She decided against sitting outside at lunchtime. Instead she propped her feet up in the corner of the cafeteria, munching on a PB&J sandwich while working on the loom pattern. Her loom only had eight treadles, and it was more like an oversized table loom than a proper full-sized one. But there were plenty of patterns Maureen could improvise, especially if she factored in thread color and thickness. And the more time she spent looking over the pattern she'd started yesterday, the less likely she'd make a mistake.

On her way to Biology, Edward swept past her like a mobile ice sculpture. Maureen resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him as she entered the classroom, and sat down at her own desk. Edward's face was extremely tense—not that that was unusual. Maureen had a sneaking suspicion he stopped breathing during class.

It wasn't long before Bella showed up, Mike trailing behind her. He stood by her table as she sat down, eyes on the floor.

"Jessica asked me to the spring dance." Mike said to Bella—or more accurately, to his feet.

Maureen was overcome by a wave of unexpected embarrassment. Embarrassed for Mike, who was her friend. Embarrassed for Bella, who was shy and stupid. She looked down at the pattern she'd drawn, putting her hands over her ears.

_This is ridiculous! Why should I care about any of this? I don't have to._

Maureen looked up—Mike and Bella were both red in the face, talking in halted, awkward sentences. And Edward, sitting less than two feet away, was eyeing them both. His face was still pinched and tense. But his eyes were black, and narrowed in fury.

_Oh my God. Please don't kill anyone._ Was Maureen's first thought.

Then: _Wait. He's not homicidal. He's _jealous_. _

Maureen laughed, her embarrassment abruptly gone. No matter how old Edward was, no matter how confusingly and badly he expressed himself, he was incapable of hiding his feelings completely. Rosalie was wrong; Edward wasn't emotionally neutered. He was emotionally_ defective_.

The rest of the day passed by quickly, and comfortably. As Maureen was walking down to the parking lot, Rosalie fell in step with her.

"You look pleased." Rosalie commented.

"Your brother is an idiot." Maureen responded happily.

"All boys are idiots." Rosalie pointed towards Bella's car.

Maureen felt her smile fade. Eric Yorkie was leaning against Bella's orange truck, eyes scanning the crowd.

"Alice said this was the day everyone would ask Bella to the dance." Rosalie informed her.

"What is she, Bella's fairy godmother?" Maureen's attempt at sarcasm came out in a weak, flat voice. Rosalie, bless her, still sniggered.

"She wants to be, I think." Rosalie stood up on her tiptoes. "I've got to go. Emmett's waving for me by the cafeteria."

"Okay."

Maureen headed towards the side of the lot where she'd parked that morning, shuffling her feet on the salted asphalt.

_Just get in the car._ She thought to herself. _You have the keys._ _Get in the car and wait for Jessie, don't look, don't look._

She turned and looked.

Bella was making a beeline for her car, as Eric straightened up and smiled, baring his teeth nervously. They met by the back of the truck, and began to talk. As if on cue, Edward strolled nonchalantly past them, pretending not to look.

Maureen scowled, and started marching across the lot towards Edward. By the time she got over there, Edward had climbed into his Volvo and Eric had already walked off, shoulders slouched in defeat.

"What am I doing?" Maureen asked herself. "I hate reality TV. _This_ is reality TV. Why am I paying attention?"

Bella's car started with a deafening roar and backed out, straightening into the lane. Almost immediately, Edward's Volvo jerked out of its space, and blocked the truck's path.

Maureen was only a few yards away from the Volvo. She stepped over, and rapped on Edward's windshield.

"Stop being a douchebag!" She shouted.

Edward raised a finger to his lips, then made shooing motions with his other hand. His eyes never left Bella's truck, or the line of cars forming behind it. Tyler Crowley climbed out of the car behind Bella, and sauntered to her window.

_He's letting all these boys throw themselves at her, watching it for his own enjoyment. _Maureen thought._ Edward's an idiot, but he's not powerless. I can't forget that. Superhuman speed and strength aside, he has no qualms about manipulating people if he wants to. Rules of human decency don't apply to him, unless he wants them to._

Maureen moved around Edward's car, rapping on the side window. Edward ignored her. She might as well have not existed.

She could hear Bella explaining her party absenteeism for what was at least the third time that day.

"Sorry Tyler, I really am going to be out of town." Bella said crisply.

Tyler didn't look upset, and Maureen was momentarily impressed by his self-confidence. Until he opened his mouth and replied: "That's cool. We still have prom."

Maureen dimly wondered if her own expression was mirroring Bella's. In all her time in Forks, she couldn't remember feeling this outraged, or sick to her stomach. It didn't help that Edward was laughing so loudly, Maureen could hear him through the closed windows of his car. Right now Maureen wasn't sure who she hated more, Edward or Tyler.

"You're blocking the door." Rosalie said. Maureen abruptly snapped back to herself—the four Cullens were circling the Volvo, trying to climb in.

Rosalie jerked her chin at Edward, who was rocking back and forth in the driver's seat. "What the hell is he laughing about?"

"The folly of womankind." Maureen snarled. "Bite his ears off."

Maureen walked back towards her car, hands balled into fists

_The impotent rage of girls is funny to him. Their _unhappiness_ is funny to him. And I care. Oh, I wish I didn't care. Caring makes me _weak_. Being affected by this makes me weak._

_Us weak._ Bella's openmouthed look of shock and anger flitted through Maureen's mind.

Maureen spat nervously—being compared to Edward was bad enough. Being compared to Bella was just pathetic. One was socially incompetent, and laughed at the discomfort of the girl he was obsessed with. And the other couldn't do anything but take it.

_So which is it worse to be like?_ Maureen thought bitterly. _The exploiter, or the exploited?_

_

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_

Please READ and REVIEW! Comments, questions, issues, all welcome!


	9. Save Your Breath

Thanks lil artist, for your flattering review. I'm glad the story is progressing in an entertaining fashion. I don't think I could write novels—that's a bit out of my league—but I can certainly express things in a clear, concise fashion.

Shout out also to xXKazaneXx, Hidden Traces and Flaming Snowpaw, who left reviews after the story went on hold.

* * *

Save Your Breath

"I am full of wrath and futility." Maureen grumbled as she buckled her seatbelt. "How are _you _doing?"

Jessica threw the car into reverse. Her face was beaming.

"Mike said yes! Everything's fine. I was patient, and it all worked out. I don't know what I was worried about."

Maureen slouched in her seat, and tugged her purple winter hat over her eyes.

"Angela asked Eric, and Lauren's going to ask Tyler or somebody else tonight." Jessica continued. "So we're all set. But Angela needs to buy a dress, and I haven't gotten a new dress in ages...that's not gonna bother you, is it? If I buy a dress instead of paying you to sew one for me?"

Maureen couldn't help but smile. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Jessie. But I am not the Textile Dictator. You can buy whatever clothes you want. Besides, who am I to stifle your love of shopping?"

"Do you want to come shopping with us?"

"Nah, I can wear an old dress. I'll make a new one for prom."

"So you _do_ plan to go to prom!" Jess said triumphantly. "Lauren and I had a bet."

Maureen would have rolled her eyes if they weren't closed. "Prom is a party. Parties can be fun. I'm not going to run screaming into the night just because I'm a little antisocial."

"Awesome!" Jess braked at a stop sign, and used the opportunity to rub Maureen's shoulder encouragingly. Maureen tried not to flinch. She wasn't in a mood to be touched, but that didn't mean everyone else around her had to feel rotten too.

Maureen spent the rest of the day in her room, emerging only for dinner and dishes. She continued working on her loom, slowly building a jagged pattern of greens and blues woven between yellow warp threads. The actual pattern was something like a broken twill, but it only appeared in long columns up the warp, leaving solid strips of yellow in between. From a distance, it created a sort of pinstripe effect. Maureen thought it might look good on a vest, or a table runner.

As she pulled the treadles and pushed the beater frame, Maureen idly wondered if Forks even _wanted_ Bella to love Edward back. His pretentious, manipulative behavior would obviously repulse any organism with half a brain. Maureen was bordering on homicidal rage herself. And as empty as she was, Bella Swan was still capable of judgment based on observation. She couldn't actually—

The response was loud, and overwhelming. Maureen had long ago lost track of how many times she'd used weaving to see the nature of a thing. And normally if she wanted a place to tell her something, she had to ask very specifically. But once again, Forks seemed more than happy to spew forth its secrets. With barely any suggestion, Forks was practically forcing them down Maureen's throat.

_They shouldn't be secrets, if Bella Swan is concerned. He ought to know about her, understand her. Eyes and hands, mouths and foreheads. Never touching, barely touching. Curious questions. Smoldering glances. A law made by statement, not by actions. No answers but this, no truths but this. Let There Be Love, and there was love. _

Maureen yelped, and jerked away from the loom. She put her fingers on her temples.

The images in her head were like a half-remembered dream, full of intense emotions coming out of nowhere. Feelings without an explanation, without a series of actions that could have lead to them. Willed into existence, contrived and random.

"You're wrong." Maureen said. "That's not how...that's not…that isn't the way human beings work!"

But here, it was. Trying to tell Forks that its people weren't real people would be like telling a thunderstorm that it was raining incorrectly. In Forks, Maureen was the incorrect one. And apparently Bella Swan was going to be pointlessly attracted to Edward Cullen. And he to her. There was no help for it.

The next morning didn't begin very well. Jessica's Mercury wouldn't start—Maureen figured it just needed a jump, but they didn't have time. Aunt Joan drove them to school, which meant they'd have to take the bus home. Then Jessica accidentally kicked slush into Maureen's face as they were getting out of the car, in her rush to find out who Lauren Mallory's date was. On top of that, Maureen forgot her bookbag was unzipped. So half the contents spilled out when she tried to put the backpack on.

Maureen shoved books and papers back into her bag, cursing profusely. She fumbled with the straps, slinging the backpack over one shoulder and crushing two books to her chest as she walked.

Bella Swan's hideously loud truck swerved into the empty space next to her. Maureen was walking away, but felt she ought to be polite.

"Good morning Bella." She waved over her shoulder.

Bella was climbing out of her car, and looked confused at the sudden greeting. She raised her arm as if to wave back, but her keys flew out of her hand and landed in the slush at her feet. Bella reached for them, but suddenly Edward was beside her.

Maureen started. He'd crossed half the parking lot in the time it took her to blink. And now he was playing the gentleman, as if he'd never been rude or socially incompetent a day in his life. Maureen took a few steps backward, but kept her eyes on the pair.

Edward leaned down, and scooped up Bella's keys with a chalk-white hand.

"How do you do that?" Bella asked.

"Do what?" Edward asked innocently. Maureen scowled.

"Appear out of thin air." Bella said.

Edward smiled. "Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant."

Maureen threw a textbook at his head.

She knew it was a bad idea even before the book left her fingertips. It wasn't going to hit Edward. He'd dodge it. And even if it did hit, it wouldn't hurt him.

The book didn't even come close. Maureen's aim was so poor, it flew three feet and smashed into the ground, pages mashing into the wet asphalt as it fell open. Bella and Edward didn't seem to notice. Face twisted in anger, Maureen stomped towards the book and picked it up. Stuffing it into her backpack, she stalked off towards the English building.

Fucking sparkly rude douchebag. _Chauvinistic_ rude douchebag, pretending at chivalry. And playing mind games worthy of a teenage girl on top of it! He couldn't be any more of a girly bitch if he'd sprouted five vaginas overnight.

Maureen stuck her tongue out slightly. Okay, that image was gross. But at least he'd see it if he tried. Fucking mind reader. Petulant child, more like.

Not that Maureen was much different. Why else was she here in Forks, if not because it was tranquil and apathetic, and she was a spoiled little brat who felt entitled to an easy life without suffering or hardship?

Thinking the rest of the world ought to be entitled right along with her wouldn't justify it.

The day didn't get better. In English, she got a 78% on the first Macbeth assignment. And in what Maureen could only assume was some bizarre attempt to make Bella jealous, Mike sat between Maureen and Jessica in Trig, and kept leaning over to whisper in their ears.

Jessica smiled, and covered her mouth so she wouldn't giggle. Maureen told Mike to shut up the second time he put his lips to her ear. She shoved him away with her shoulder the third. When Mike still didn't get the message and did it a fourth time, Maureen snatched his mechanical pencil out of his hand, popped the eraser off and emptied the graphite sticks onto the floor. She ground them into the linoleum, then dropped the useless pencil on his desk.

"Well, you never actually told me to stop." Mike defended himself when they were waiting on the lunch line.

Maureen picked up a salad plate and a hamburger. "I told you to be quiet. Was that not clear enough?"

"No, it wasn't! How was I supposed to know you weren't trying to encourage me? Girls play around like that, they make you chase them."

"You just _hope_ she wants you to chase her." Maureen muttered as they crossed the cafeteria, heading for the cluster of their peers that had already formed around the usual table.

"Are you sitting with us because of Edward Cullen?" Angela asked as Maureen sat down next to her.

Maureen frowned. "What?"

Angela pointed. "He's sitting at your table. The empty one you sit at when you want to be alone."

Maureen's eyes followed Angela's outstretched hand. The four other Cullens were in their normal seats, but Edward was indeed sitting at her table, smiling at nothing.

"No…I didn't…" Maureen was caught off guard. _Did he want to talk to me? Why is he sitting there?_

Edward raised his finger, and made a 'come hither' motion. But he wasn't looking at her. Maureen followed his gaze. Bella stood in the middle of the cafeteria next to Jessica, staring wide-eyed at Edward. Jessica's eyes widened too, as Bella slowly walked to Edward's table, and sat down.

Jessica scuttled over to them, and wedged herself between Maureen and Mike. "Do you guys see what I'm seeing?" She hissed.

"Unbelievable." Lauren Mallory sneered.

"Why did he invite her over there?" Eric asked.

"Why did she sit down with him?" Mike complained.

"Why are we caring?" Was Maureen's contribution. Nobody answered her.

Lauren picked up a plastic fork and knife, and started to cut her cafeteria calzone into small pieces. "She must think she's pretty impressive, getting Edward Cullen's attention." The blonde girl sniffed.

"I think she's pretty unfortunate. We're all glaring daggers at her back." Maureen commented.

Nobody stopped, though. Maureen couldn't hear what Edward and Bella were saying, but their postures were ridiculous. Through some trick of physics, they were both leaning towards and away from each other at the same time. Bella looked angry and entranced. Edward looked indulgent and hungry.

_It's like some kind of retarded stork courtship ritual._ Maureen thought. _It's awful and boring and stupid, and I can't look away._

"Hey, um…can we talk about LaPush?" Angela finally broke the silence. "I need to know who's coming, so we can figure out how many cars we'll need."

"I'm in." Maureen said hastily. "I need a vacation day." _And a stiff drink._

The entire table slowly drifted back into conversation, but everyone kept snatching glances at Edward and Bella talking. Maureen included. It was the proverbial drama train wreck all over again. And Edward kept smiling at Bella with excessive patronization….like how you'd smile at a two year old who's showing you a finger painting.

Maureen booked it for Biology as soon as the bell rang, fast-walking down the hall. Rosalie caught up with her easily, falling into pace a half step behind her.

"Well,_ that_ was a special little lunchtime." Rosalie said.

"I don't care." Maureen replied.

Rosalie scoffed. "Jasper and Edward are the ones who read people, but even_ I _can tell that's a poor lie."

"Well I'd _love_ not to care about the whole thing…how about that?" Maureen said.

"That I believe."

"And trust me when I say I _don't _want to know what contrived shit your brother said to Bella." Maureen groused. "I'm sure it was awkward and devoid of chemistry, but they'll both come out of the conversation thinking that the other is witty and Just Their Type."

"Speaking of types, the Juniors are blood typing today." Rosalie said. "So Edward will be ditching your class."

"Thank God for small favors." Maureen said.

Or not. Edward's absenteeism aside, Maureen wasn't really looking forward to the lab. She routinely stabbed herself with needles and seam rippers, but that was accidental. And no matter how many rubber gloves or sterilized tools they used, the idea of a bunch of teenagers bleeding themselves in class seemed intensely stupid to her. Science involved safety goggles and lab coats; it wasn't_ supposed_ to hurt your body. That's what Gym class was for.

Mr. Banner put on a pair of rubber gloves, and started passing boxes of typing supplies around the room. He used Mike as the first victim, pricking the boy's finger with the lancet and squeezing blood onto the designated cards. He continued moving around the noisy classroom, dispensing drops of water and offering encouragement.

"This is gross." June Richardson said. "Someone could have a blood disease!"

Maureen winced. They'd done blood typing in Sacramento, in her freshman Biology class. Maureen had raised her hand and asked the teacher if she could opt out, because she had AIDS. Then she'd given herself a bloody nose, and sneezed on her lab partner's notebook. It wasn't Maureen's fondest memory.

At the time, she'd been trying to get expelled.

"And what happens if the cut gets infected, or someth—is she okay?"

Maureen looked left, at June's prompting. Bella had her head on her desk. From what Maureen could see of her face, she looked like she was about to throw up.

"Ah, she's fine." Maureen said, smiling wickedly. "I don't think anything can actually hurt her."

"Bella, are you alright?" Mr. Banner asked, moving swiftly to Bella's table. The pale girl raised her head slightly, and they exchanged a few words.

"Will someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" Mr. Banner asked the classroom.

"Just give her some smelling salts, she'll come around." Maureen remarked as Mike immediately volunteered, putting his arm around Bella's waist and helping her out the door.

Mr. Banner prepared June and Maureen's cards with drops of water, then moved on to the next table. June broke the seal on her lancet, and stared down at it nervously

"I can't do it." June confessed, handing the lancet to Maureen. "Can you do it to me?"

"Oh my God, look at Eric!" Maureen said.

"What?" June turned, and Maureen grabbed her hand, jamming the lancet into the pad of June's middle finger.

"Ow!" June shrieked, yanking her hand away. She eyed the bleeding puncture mark. "Ugh…thanks." She pressed down on the bleeding finger with her thumb, squeezing blood onto her cards.

"Now let's do you." June said, not without a little glee in her voice.

Maureen shook her head. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and tugged sharply on a piece of dry skin. With a brief sting, the strip of skin peeled off. Maureen felt warm blood welling up on her lip.

"That's cheating!" June hissed, as Maureen bent over to squeeze lip blood onto her cards. "It probably won't come out right when it's tested, or something."

Maureen shrugged. "I know my blood type is B, and I'm not donating blood anyway."

A movement outside the window caught Maureen's eye. She crossed the aisle and knelt on Edward's chair, looking out the window.

Bella and Mike were sitting on the sidewalk—more accurately, Bella's face was pressed to the sidewalk. Edward was standing beside them. After a moment, Edward leaned down and picked Bella up, cradling her in his arms. He carried her off towards the nurse's office, leaving Mike behind.

Maureen banged her head against the glass in irritation. She'd been joking about the smelling salts. But for real now, a strapping young man was carrying Bella to her velvet fainting couch. This was like a page out of Austen, when men were men and women were inferior beings…even the smart women. Sure, back in the nineteenth century people hadn't fully grasped the concept of gender equality. But now they fucking did. Bella should know better, and grow a spine.

Then again, it was hard to grow a spine when the smell of blood made you vomit. Maureen liked to think she could fight off chauvinist advances while on the verge of throwing up. But she'd never tried, so how would she know?

At that point, Lee Stephens started retching. He'd gashed his finger instead of puncturing it, and blood was dribbling through his fingers. Mike had just walked back into the classroom, looking extremely pissed, when Mr. Banner sent him right out again with Lee.

"I need to vent about this." Maureen said to herself.

Maureen missed Rosalie when school let out—she tried to follow Emmett to the Cullens' Volvo after Spanish, but Jessica caught her arm as she was headed to the parking lot.

"Are you stalking Emmett Cullen?" Jessica asked.

Maureen's mouth opened, then closed. _Suppose I deserve that. I am being a bit of a creeper._

It was strange that Jessica had noticed, cousin or no. During the last few weeks, Maureen had gotten the distinct impression that as much as people stared at Bella or the Cullens, Maureen's own presence had become oddly easy to overlook.

All the same, Maureen would rather not tell her gossip-hungry cousin that she and Rosalie Hale were on speaking terms. That little tidbit was still a secret. Maureen and Rosalie tended to talk in places that were absolutely deserted, or very crowded. Either way, their interactions were hard to spot.

"…stalking's a bit strong." Maureen finally said. "Stalking would imply that I'm interested in him. I'm just following him."

"Why?"

"He's a big guy. He clears a path." Maureen tried to change the subject. "So we're taking the bus home?"

Jessica shook her head. "We have another ride."

Apparently, Lauren had graciously offered to carpool several girls, including the Stanley cousins. Maureen was confused, until she realized it was an informal recruitment session to join the Mallory Party. For the duration of the drive, Lauren was full of tactful little comments about Bella Swan and her lunchtime date with Edward Cullen.

"He and his siblings think they're too good for everybody." Lauren's pale fish eyes met Maureen's in the rearview mirror. "Maybe _Bella _thinks she's too good for everybody too."

"Well, damn. We can't have that!" Maureen said. Squished into the bitch seat between Jessica and Ashley, she felt like being obstinate.

"I'm not about to be beat by a lily-skinned _Arizonan_." Maureen continued. "I'd better start thinking _I'm_ to good for everybody, _plus_ the Cullens. That'll show 'em."

Lauren's eyes narrowed, and she continued talking as if Maureen had said nothing.

"Does Lauren really care that much about Bella sitting with Edward?" Maureen murmured quietly to Jessica. "I thought _you _were the biggest Cullen groupie."

"Hah-freaking-hah."

"No, seriously."

"It's not that. Tyler's taking Bella to prom." Jessica whispered in Maureen's ear, for once taking care to lower her voice

"What?"

"That's what Tyler said."

"Tyler's full of shit." Maureen whispered back. She'd seen the anger on Bella's face. That, and Edward would have imploded from jealousy if he'd thought Tyler—or Mike, for that matter—were actual threats to his vampire machismo.

"You hardly ever talk to Tyler _or_ Bella." Jessica shot back quietly. "How would _you_ know?"

"Fine. I'm completely ignorant about your useless drama." Maureen muttered. She leaned back against the seat, and watched the trees fly past.

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IF YOU LAUGHED AT ANY PART OF THIS CHAPTER, YOU OWE ME A REVIEW. Doesn't matter if it's short. :D


	10. Talking It Out

Thanks again, lil artist. While your analogy is not my favorite, I'm gratified that you noticed the mood swinging. There was previously a sentence referencing that in this chapter. It got cut during an edit, but the fact that the emotions still come through is good.

Everyone else, as always I'd love some input. Or praise. Or unmitigated rage at my defilement of your beloved Edward. Whatever floats your boat.

* * *

Talking It Out

Mike Newton called later that night. Jessica was thrilled, until he asked her to pass the phone to Maureen.

"Why does he want to talk to_ you_?" She sniffed, handing over the phone.

"I'm his wingman." Maureen said. "I bet he wants me to read your diary, so he can tailor his personality to fit your hopes and dreams."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "I never know when you're being serious or not."

What Mike actually wanted to talk about was…unspecific. He kept making 'hrm' noises, and asking Maureen random questions in a vaguely accusatory tone.

"Do you think the cut on my finger was gross?"

Maureen put the cordless phone under her ear, and opened the refrigerator door. "I think the cut on your finger was _microscopic_."

"Hrm. I…um. Do you think I could carry someone if they were dead weight?"

Maureen pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge, and poured herself a glass. "I don't know. Are we talking kid or adult?"

"Someone your size."

_I'm chunkier than Bella Swan...or what passes for chunky in this place._

It was actually a little weird. In almost two years, Maureen hadn't seen a single fat person her age. There were a bunch of parents and other forty-somethings who looked normal, but everyone younger seemed to be missing some key cellulite glands. They were _slightly _plump, or _barely _curvy...but never rubanesque.

"Yeah, you could probably carry me if you tried." Maureen answered. "What's this about?"

"What? Why do you want to know?" Mike asked quickly.

_Good grief._ "Mike, drink something non-caffeinated and go to bed." Maureen said. "If you actually wanted my input on anything, you wouldn't be hemming and hawing so much."

The conversation ended shortly after, and Maureen took her own advice. She curled up in her bed under a pile of blankets and quilts, listening to the wind rush past her window. Maureen stared at the white ceiling above her, seeking out the cracks in the paint as her eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark.

"I thought you were a peaceful place." Maureen said. "I thought the whole world was shallow and unimportant. I thought I was safe. Why is everyone suffering from this pointless angst and jealousy?"

Forks didn't answer.

The next morning, Maureen found Rosalie behind the Gym. Alice was there too, scribbling something in a notebook.

"Hey, Rosalie." Maureen paused. "Hey, Alice."

"You were supposed to find us two minutes ago." Alice said. "You should have checked here before you went around the cafeteria."

"Yeah, I missed you too." Maureen turned to face Rosalie.

"You seem irritated." Maureen observed. The blonde vampire snorted.

"_Someone_ took the Volvo to go drop _somebody else_ off yesterday. Her scent is still all over the car!"

"Well, he had to take Bella home after the blood typing fiasco." Alice said. "He didn't want her to drive in her condition."

"What condition? Nauseated and ineffectual?" Maureen said. "I've never _seen_ someone so dramatically helpless. And Edward is acting like the male lead in a daytime soap opera!"

"He's testing his abilities of control." Alice said. "And he wants to understand Bella, since he can't read her mind. Really, he's courting her. But try not to think that word near him. He'll get testy."

Maureen scoffed. "This is beyond stupid. And just so you know, he's also testing _Mike's_ abilities of control. The boy won't admit it, but he is seriously pissed off."

"Edward may have upset Mike Newton." Alice ventured. "But it was incidental on his part."

"So he's _incidentally_ taking pleasure in other people's anger and pain."

"You know, you really are a danger to us." Alice said calmly.

Rosalie's head shot up. "Alice, what are you talking about?"

"Not this again." Maureen groaned.

"No, it's different." Alice said. "We were foolish to think that getting used to your smell would make it easier for us to hurt you. Bella's blood causes more trouble than yours ever did."

"So what's your point?" Maureen demanded.

"Bella will like Edward, I'm sure." Alice smiled. "And she'll definitely like me, once she meets me. She'll like all of us. But you _don't_ like us. You think we're rude, and patronizing, and pathetic examples of vampirism."

"You sparkle in the sunlight." Maureen said flatly. "You know what sparkles in the sunlight? _Butterflies_. _Quartz rocks_. Water with the right levels of sediment! Not the goddamn Bloodsucking Children of the Night."

Alice crossed her arms over her chest. "You've been reading too much horror fiction."

"I've _been_ places that you'd call 'horror fiction'!" Maureen cried. "And I'm not going to hurt you just because I don't like you. I'm not a psychopath."

"Or a vampire." Rosalie interjected. "She's a…a concept. With the strength of a human being. She couldn't possibly hope to injure us. We'd break her."

"Good to be reminded." Maureen said dryly.

"She can't _physically_ hurt us, no." Alice said. "But she could hurt us in other ways. She could tell people about us."

Maureen threw up her hands.

"You know what? You're right. I totally could. But why the hell do you think I _would_? I haven't told anybody anything about you. People don't even know I talk to you guys."

"You're constantly acerbic." Alice said. "Edward says your thoughts are so angry and muddled up, he can't make heads or tails of them."

"Are you sure he's not just confused by the vocabulary? I don't think he knows the meaning of the word: 'misogyny'."

"See? That's exactly it." Alice said. "Why don't you try being nice, Maureen?"

Maureen was about to open her mouth and let loose another string of oaths. But then she stopped. And thought about what Alice had said.

She stared at the little amber-eyed girl, looking her over. Alice was calm. She hadn't raised her voice or lost her cool once. Rosalie and Edward got angry so easily. But Alice was harder to upset.

"Okay."

Rosalie looked back and forth between them. "Did I miss something?"

"Alice has a good point." Maureen said. "You want me to be nice? I'll...consider it."

Alice grinned. "Excellent. You have a great day, Maureen!"

She strolled off, leaving Rosalie and Maureen behind. Neither girl spoke for a moment.

"She spent yesterday helping Edward compose lullabies for Bella Swan on the piano." Rosalie finally said.

"I am unsurprised." Maureen responded.

"I love Alice dearly. But you don't need to take her seriously when she acts like this."

"I take nothing your family says without the recommended dosage of salt." Maureen assured her.

Maureen sat with the group at lunch, and so did Bella. Everyone kept talking excitedly about the LaPush trip to First Beach. Mike made sure everyone knew where to meet tomorrow, and Angela compiled a list of food supplies people were bringing. Mike also chatted happily at Bella, as if Edward McHeroPants hadn't swept her away from him less than twenty-four hours ago.

Lauren was snubbing Bella, though. It started out subtle, but got more blatant as the hour passed. Maureen had been on the receiving end of a lot of snotty looks from Lauren, and she knew the signs.

The lunch bell rang, and everyone exited the cafeteria in a clump.

"I don't know why_ Bella_ doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on." Lauren told Mike. She didn't shout, but she wasn't trying to be quiet either

"She's my friend, she sits with us." Mike said.

Maureen gave him a mental thumbs-up. Fuck Edward and his baiting: Mike was a good person, and a loyal friend. And his worst traits were nowhere near as bad as Lauren's.

Bella had obviously heard Lauren, though. She lowered her head and slowed her steps, letting Jessica and Angela walk past her. Maureen slowed down as well, just outside the open double doors of the cafeteria.

She caught the sleeve of Bella's flannel shirt with her thumb and forefinger, to make her stop.

"You okay?" Maureen asked.

Bella looked up. She seemed surprised that Maureen had even spoken to her.

"Oh! Um, I'm fine." She said, smiling despite the unhappy crease in her forehead. She rapped her forehead with her knuckles.

"I guess...it's just hard being in here, sometimes." Bella said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to live inside your head." Maureen mused. "It seems exceedingly narrow."

Bella frowned.

"That's not insulting your intelligence, just your worldview." Maureen said hastily. "Good grief. Everyone here is being way more sensitive than they ought to be. Even the Cullens, and God knows they think they have a lot to be sensitive about."

Maureen grimaced inwardly at herself. So much for trying to be nice. But Bella wasn't offended—she just looked confused. She was staring at Maureen with abject puzzlement.

"The Cullens?" Bella echoed. Maureen sighed.

"You look lost. But if you don't speak, you won't get any answers." She said. "And this place is a haven for petty head games."

Bella smiled a little. "Yeah, I noticed."

"No." Maureen said. "You really haven't. If you were able to see all the awful, manipulative patronizing shit that occurs here, you'd work to avoid it all. Not that I'm successfully avoiding it myself. But I'm trying."

Maureen jerked her head towards the table of ice-pale teens. Emmett and Edward were absent, but Jasper and the girls were still sitting, slowly stacking their trays and crumpling up napkins.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Maureen said. "If you consider milk-colored skin to be a turn on. Mind you, I don't think I'd enjoy fucking a marble statue. But that's just me."

Bella's head turned sharply towards Maureen.

"…you know what the Cullens are." Bella said. "Whatever's going on with them, going on with Edward. You know what it is."

Maureen tried not to look surprised. She kept forgetting that Forks seemed very set on Bella unearthing the Cullens' spooky, mysterious secrets. So it made sense that Bella would be perceptive on the matter, regardless of her actual observation powers.

"That I do." Maureen said. "But it's not my place to say a damn thing. I promised not to."

_And as much as I hate them sometimes, I keep my promises._ Maureen thought. _They kept theirs, after all._

Suddenly, Maureen got it. This was what Alice had been driving at this morning. She'd seen this conversation coming!

_And she thought I'd blab that they were vampires. Maybe she even _wanted _me to tell Bella._ Maureen shook her head disgustedly. _Does the concept of 'cross me' not register with these people? Or are they just used to making impossible promises, and inevitably breaking them?_

Regardless of what Alice wanted, Maureen wasn't going to bite. There was always a third option.

I'll tell you what, Bella." Maureen said, putting her hands together. "Ask me any question about _myself_, and I will answer you truthfully."

Bella eyed Maureen skeptically. "Are you going to give me straight answers?"

"Not if a straight answer means I'd be revealing something I shouldn't." Maureen said promptly. "There, I've already started telling the truth. You see how easy this is?"

Bella bit her lip.

"Okay." She said. "When did you move here, exactly?"

"Late August, year before last."

"When and how did you first meet the Cullens?"

"We're not talking about them."

Bella folded her arms across her chest. "I'm asking about them _in relation _to you."

"You're full of shit." Maureen said. But she sighed. "I met them the second day of school. I was sitting at their table, by myself. They asked me to move."

"Why do you dislike them?"

"Because Edward's patronizing, and the things his family does are pathetic."

"Not because they're freaks?"

"They're not freaks. Calling them freaks is too unspecific. I'd rather insult them for doing things that piss me off." Maureen stretched her arms. "Next question."

"What do they do that pisses you off?"

"They come to a public school and don't interact with anyone." Maureen said. "They treat people like ants, and don't make an effort to become more socially adept. Next question."

Bella hesitated, then plowed ahead. "Do you like any boys here?"

Maureen laughed. "Not in a romantic sense."

"Do you like any boys in a romantic sense _anywhere else_?"

"That's clever of you. But no."

"Why haven't you brought some kind of knitting to school recently?"

"I need to pay attention in class, occasionally. And I'm mostly weaving on a loom right now. It's not exactly portable."

"What do you do when you walk into the woods with Rosalie Hale?"

Maureen's eyes widened. "You know about that?"

Bella Swan, Edward's pinnacle of selflessness and virtue, actually smirked.

"I saw the two of you walking across the soccer field together. You've gone back there with her at least twice."

Maureen shrugged, composing herself. "We sit in the woods and talk. It's peaceful and private."

Bella scanned Maureen's face.

"I'm not lying." Maureen said flatly.

The crease in Bella's forehead deepened. "Fine. Okay. Why do you like fiber arts so much?"

"It's what I am." Maureen said.

"You mean '_who _I am'." Bella corrected.

"No. Not who." Maureen turned to go.

"You chew on that, Bella Swan." She called back, over her shoulder. "I expect you'll know everything one day. And tell Edward that if you guess his weirdo secrets, he can tell you mine—just don't go blabbing them to anyone else."

Maureen walked down the hall to Biology, chewing on her lip. The hole from the day before hadn't healed yet, because she kept picking at it with her teeth.

_The girl's still half a person, and Forks is still her crutch._ Maureen thought. _ But damn me. I almost want to know what she does next._

_

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Read & Review, please. I have no idea if anyone is reading this. I can only assume I have an audience of one.


	11. Red Ridinghood

Thank you lil artist, Amarth Obstreperous, Kazane and BrokenGlassNinja. It was silly to think no one was reading. I was mostly worried that the fic wasn't posting right, because I couldn't find the story on the main Twilight page. And apparently there has been some difficulty posting reviews. Hopefully I've cleared that up.

To respond to your statement, Amarth, I can't say I like Twilight. It's poorly written, and teaches unhealthy lessons. But it's very, very good at taking you away from reality, and bringing you to a world where logic and pain don't exist. That can be a boon, when you're in a bad place. I'm not sure if it's worth the bad, though.

I'm actually going to be out of town from Thursday to Sunday, which I totally forgot about. To make up for it, I will post one chapter today, another tomorrow, and a third on Tuesday.

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Red Ridinghood

The sun was shining Saturday morning. It was still partially cloudy out—Forks experienced cloudless blue skies approximately never –but there was definite sunlight, strong and yellow, streaking across the sky and through the trees.

"Mike was right about the weather." Jessica said, as they waited outside the Stanley house. "It should be a pretty nice day."

"Mm." Maureen murmured. She was sitting on the curb, dozing against the mailbox. A sports bag stuffed with blankets, snacks, and other trip items rested on her feet. Both girls were bundled up against the weather, wearing coats, boots, and several of Maureen's knitted hats and scarves.

"You don't sound very excited." Jessica said.

"Just trying to conserve my energy." Maureen replied. Truth be told, she _was_ excited about the trip. She hadn't been to LaPush since last spring, when her Aunt and Uncle had taken her and Jessica on a family day trip.

Tyler Crowley's used Sentra eventually turned the corner and drove down the street. Connor was in the front passenger seat, and Lauren was in the back. Maureen got to her feet, and climbed into the backseat after Jessica. Normally Jessica despised the middle seat, but she was fully aware that putting Maureen directly next to Lauren would have been an act of sheer stupidity.

Even then, Lauren had to put her two cents in. "I'm surprised you're not wearing a dress made out of seaweed, Maureen."

"There's a way you can use seaweed to make a cellulose-based fiber, but it's an artificial fabric with a commercial patent." Maureen said. "Out of my league."

The only retort was a scoff, as Jessica distracted the blonde girl with a stream of chatter that Lauren joined with interest.

For ages, Maureen had wondered why Lauren, out of all the one-dimensional people in Forks, insisted on being such an unwavering bitch. But eventually Maureen had determined that it was just Lauren's nature. She enjoyed playing the high school game, gathering sycophants and attention. Manipulation was her natural talent, and she used it for more than just put-downs. Lauren insulted everyone who got on her bad side, but she was just as capable of building a person up with flattery as she was at tearing them down with passive-aggressive comments. Maureen knew Lauren could be sweet, if she wanted to. She just didn't want to. Maureen had to respect that, inasmuch as Lauren's attitude was terrible.

It didn't take long to reach Newton's Olympic Outfitters. Mike was waiting outside, along with Angela and a few others. Everyone else showed up within twenty minutes, including Bella. The pale brunette gave Maureen a long look, but her cow eyes didn't betray any sudden insight—safe to say she hadn't figured out what Maureen or the Cullens were in the last thirty-six hours.

There was a small, disorganized muddle as the dozen or so teens tried to work out who would go in which car. Maureen gave up voicing her opinion when she realized it was more of a subtle battle concerning who would sit next to whom. After the dust cleared, Maureen ended up squashed into the very back of Mike's Suburban. But at least she had a window seat.

"You still have the bag?" Jessica called. She was up at the very front, wedged in between Mike and Bella.

"Yup." Maureen responded. "You can take it later, but I'll need to get my drop spindle out."

"You brought _what_?" Jessica squawked. "This is a beach trip! You—okay, you know what? Never mind. I don't care."

"That's the spirit." Maureen grinned.

As craft-focused as she was, Maureen had to accept that there was a time and a place for everything. Gym class was useless for any activity except physical exertion. School in general was only fit for projects small enough to carry in her hands. And while Maureen did a fair bit of washing and dyeing and retting in the Stanley's backyard, the great outdoors was really not the place for working with clean yarn or cloth.

Maureen could have spent her time in LaPush combing the beach and woods for Canadian hemp. It was reservation territory, though. Maureen had fairly lax morals when it came to gathering fiber plants in the woods behind her house, but a reservation was not government owned no-man's land. It would be less like taking something from a public park, and more like robbing from private property.

So Maureen had compromised. With no plans to forage, and unwilling to bring any good yarn to the sandy beach, she'd taken along four ounces of nettle fiber and one of her older drop spindles. Like flax, the result would be more of a sinewy cord than a fluffy yarn. The sandy, briny beach wouldn't have too much of an effect on that kind of thread.

Unless she wanted it to. Maureen blinked, as an idea formed in her head. She smiled.

The sun was still shining when they reached First Beach, and Maureen craned her neck to look out the window as they drove towards the parking lot. It was a gorgeous landscape, despite its lack of bright, warm colors. The stones on the beach were a thousand different shades of gray, the white-capped ocean a rolling mass that changed from blue to green and back again. That, combined with the soft sunlight peeking through the dense verdurous trees, made for a magnificent sight.

_Forks is awful at describing itself._ Maureen thought. _Too many synonyms for green, too much convoluted language. But it's a genuinely beautiful place, regardless._

The group of teens made their way down the path from the parking lot to the beach, settling down by some log benches around a fire pit. Maureen helped gather armfuls of salt-bleached wood, while Mike and Ben stacked them within the ring of ash-coated stones.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked Bella.

Maureen ducked over to Jessica, who was fishing a blanket out of the sports bag. Maureen dug down into the side of the bag, extracting a chipped coffee mug, the baggie of nettle fiber and her drop spindle. This particular spindle was large, and the weight was a little off. But it would work fine.

Maureen ran down to the water, and dipped the coffee mug into the ocean. She carefully walked back to the log circle, and sat down on a bench as the fire began to grow in the pit. Planting the coffee mug beside her, Maureen twisted some of the nettle fiber, moving her fingers until it stretched out into a loose bit of thread. She wound that around the top of the spindle shaft, below the whorl, then made a half-hitch knot above the whorl, since this spindle didn't have a hook. Maureen spun the spindle clockwise with a flick of her wrist; it was much like snapping her fingers. The spindle turned, the loose thread twisted tight. Quickly, Maureen dipped her fingers into the mug of seawater, and used the liquid to smooth the coarse fiber into an even string.

Flax fiber—or nettle, or hemp, depending on what you used to make your linen—was not the easiest thing to spin. It had taken Maureen years to develop a steady technique. She kept her eyes on the thread as it spun, fingers feeding out the nettle fiber slowly, only pausing to undo the half-hitch, and roll the spun thread onto the shaft. Then she began again.

Maureen raised the spindle higher, bringing the twisting thread up until she could stare at it, and stare past it into the fire. The blue-green flames licked higher and higher up the driftwood, and Maureen's world narrowed down to the eerie fire, and the thin line of nettle fiber spinning before it.

_Do you see what I see?_ She asked silently.

Mike shook her out of her trance some time later, with a hand on her shoulder.

"You want to walk to the tide pools?" He asked.

Maureen nodded. "Uh…yeah. Sure." She tucked the baggie of fiber into her jacket pocket, and stood up.

To get to the tide pools, they had to cross a stretch of woods to a different part of the coastline. The trees dimmed the sunlight, and the forest floor was coated in pine needles and crooked roots. Still, the smell of the sea soaked through.

Halfway through the trek, Maureen pulled out the drop spindle, and began to spin as she walked. When she needed water to smooth the fiber, she spit on her fingers. Not the most glamorous option, but Maureen found it hard to care. She fell behind the group as she spun, focused on her work.

"How can you do that without falling?" Bella asked.

"Argh!" Maureen nearly jumped out of her skin, as she realized Bella Swan was walking beside her, slowly and carefully.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Maureen demanded, looking sidelong at Bella.

"I tagged along." Bella said. "I didn't make a big thing out of it."

Maureen adjusted the spindle, and began to spin again. "Well props to you for not being the center of attention, for once."

Bella scowled. "I _hate_ being the center of attention. I don't _try_ to do it."

"But you do it anyway." Maureen said. "They imagine you to be something they want, and you feed that by not giving them anything to disillusion them."

Bella looked confused. But she let it drop. "You didn't answer my question." She pointed out.

"Uh?"

"How are you spinning and walking at the same time, without falling over? I fall when I'm just walking."

_Your clumsiness is neither endearing nor realistic._ Maureen thought. The two girls cleared the forest, and were back on a stretch of stony beach. Up ahead, Mike and the others had reached the pools.

"You did promise to answer all my questions truthfully." Bella reminded her.

Maureen nodded. "The answer is practice."

"Practice?" Bella echoed, as the two of them picked their way across the rocks towards the tide pools.

"I've been doing this sort of thing nearly every day of my life, since I learned how." Maureen explained. "So I'm good at it. But I'm not perfect."

"You haven't fallen once." Bella accused. She was taking careful steps, eyes glued to her feet.

"No, I mean with the drop spindle. It doesn't matter if you've done this for two years or twenty, every now and again the thread will break. Trust me."

Bella sat carefully on a large rock, while Maureen joined Mike and the others in leaping around the tide pools, peering down at the plants and fish. The sight of such bustling life on so small a scale was just as absorbing as spinning. When they'd looked at almost every pool, Mike started speaking lines for the little creatures he found.

"Aw, c'mon, gimme a hug! No one loves me!" Mike said, playing the part of an anemone enveloping a struggling shrimp in its stinging fronds.

"No, no!" Maureen squeaked, playing the shrimp. "You smell terrible! I swear, it's the truth!"

"You can't handle the truth!" Mike rumbled, as the shrimp gave up the fight and sank listlessly into the anemone.

Maureen laughed. "You're horrible. In a good way."

Mike smiled back. "Thanks for the clarification."

On the way back, Bella fell down a few times. It was completely genuine, but half the time there was nothing to fall over. Bella was literally just tripping over her own two feet. Maureen couldn't help but wonder how Bella had survived to the age of seventeen. Natural selection should have weeded her out of the herd, like a gimpy wildebeest.

When they reached the campfire, Maureen saw that more people had come—reservation kids, by the look of it. Introductions were made, and Maureen shook hands with a few of them. One of the taller boys gave her a startled look, then a suspicious glare.

"Who are you?" He asked sharply.

"Maureen Stanley." Maureen said. "…is there a problem?"

"You're giving her the stink eye, Sam." One of the younger boys said. "Might wanna tone it down a little."

The tall boy shot her one last look, then moved away.

Maureen shrugged, and walked over to the snack pile to wrestle a bag of Doritos from Mike. After acquiring the chips, she sat down next to Jessica on a bench and broke out the sandwiches Aunt Joan had packed them.

"The sun's going away." Jessica remarked mournfully, looking up at the clouds advancing across the sky.

"It was a brief, but torrid love affair." Maureen agreed. "Maybe he'll stick around in the summer."

After lunch, Jessica and Mike headed off somewhere. A handful of kids went back to the tide pools, and almost everyone else wandered away as well.

Maureen wrinkled her nose—there was a sudden pressure on the back of her head, as if Forks was trying to shove her away from the fire pit. Maureen took the hint and walked off by herself. She didn't feel like objecting.

Alone on the beach, Maureen stood at the edge of the waves and spun more nettle thread. Strong gusts blew the spindle out like a kite, and Maureen felt like she was fishing in the wind. The smell of the sea was thick in her nose and mouth, too familiar by now to be unpleasant.

_Do you smell what I smell?_ She asked.

Maureen didn't know how long she stood there, spinning and winding and smelling the sea. But by and by, she heard the sound of steps on the sand behind her. Maureen stopped spinning, and turned around.

The tall boy—Sam—was standing about six feet away. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"You're the Spinner."

Maureen's heart leapt into a fast, staccato beat. She clenched her fingers around the spindle in her hand.

"…um…well…I _am_ spinning." Maureen smiled weakly, and held up the drop spindle.

"You're the Spinner." Sam said again. His voice was very deep—more man than boy. "Harry Clearwater told me about you."

Maureen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Oh, _Harry_ told you!" She said. "That's okay then. I thought—well, I told him it was okay to tell. And I did tell him my name was Spinner."

Maureen shrugged. "I thought he'd just tell the other Elders…you're kind of young."

Sam was still staring at her. Maureen stared back—he was young, but he was _definitely_ not a boy. He was at least twenty, if not older. And he was muscular. His jacket helped to disguise it, but from the width of his shoulders he was very well built.

"I didn't know who you were because of_ that_." Sam said, pointing at the spindle. "I smelled you."

"…sorry, _what_?"

"You don't smell like a person should." He said. "People smell warm. They smell like earth or soap, mixed with sweat."

It took Maureen a moment to process this. But then she got it.

"Oh. Oh!" Maureen said. "You're a werewolf, aren't you?"

Even if it hadn't been a logical jump, Maureen would have known she'd gotten it right: Forks was giving her a mental affirmative, like a drumbeat on the back of her skull.

For his part, Sam flinched when she said the word out loud. His jaw tightened.

"Don't worry, nobody's here." Maureen said. She looked around for good measure—their stretch of the beach was deserted. "Or do you not want me to use that word?"

Sam shook his head tersely. "No, you can use it. I am…a wolf." He raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "It feels strange, to hear an outsider say it. To say what I really am, to my face."

"I know the feeling." Maureen smirked. "Let's become less outside, then. You're Sam…"

"Uley."

"Sam Uley, then. Good to meet you. My name is—"

"Maureen Stanley." Sam interrupted. "You introduced yourself, with your friends. But they were all human. You're something else."

For someone who professed to be a werewolf, Sam was acting far too disturbed by this.

"You said Harry told you about me." Maureen prompted. "You must have been expecting something strange."

Sam shrugged. "Harry didn't entirely believe your story—you had no proof, you sounded crazy. I didn't know what to think about it. And I had other things on my mind, at the time. But he was right. You were right. You're unhuman. I can smell you."

"Okay, just to let you know…harping on how I smell? That's damn creepy." Maureen snapped.

Sam seemed to come back to himself. He'd been staring at Maureen intensely, but then he blinked. His face relaxed a little.

"I'm sorry." He said. His tone was more polite. "I didn't mean to freak you out. But I've never encountered a creature like you. It's put me on edge."

"There's only me, here in Forks." Maureen said. "And like I told Harry, I don't mean anybody any harm."

She made a face. "Out of curiosity, _how_ do I smell inhuman?"

_Please don't say my blood smells like crabapples. That was annoying enough the first time._

Sam looked pensive. "It's not a warm, human smell. It's more vegetable, or chemical. It reminds me of dried herbs, and sheep."

Maureen raised her eyebrows. "I smell like sheep?"

"Not like a sheep, but a sheep's skin." Sam corrected. "And on top of that, you have a hundred different tiny smells I can't identify. They're faded, but present. You smell like places I've never been."

_I was wrong. _Maureen thought._ Forks doesn't frame things with blood. It frames things by __**scent**__. Everything has a smell, and that's what defines it…except only an elite few, like a ruling class, are aware of the smells._

_It's probably for the best that it's only a few, though._ Maureen decided. _Otherwise, it might be an appropriate greeting to stick your nose in somebody's armpit._

"So you smell off. Not human." Sam concluded. He looked askance at Maureen. "You told Harry that you came from a different world."

"A different place. I did." Maureen said. "I can go any place where this is." She held up the spindle. "I'm the concept of turning natural fibers into cloth."

Sam looked confused. "You do magic?"

"More like I _am_ magic, if you've got to use that word. But it's not flashy stuff. Here, catch."

Maureen tossed the spindle towards Sam. He caught it easily.

"Smell it."

Sam raised the spindle to his nose, eyes shut. His lips quirked up in a puzzled, delighted smile.

"It smells like the sea." Sam said. "I feel like I'm swimming in it, like the water is all around me. And I see a driftwood fire in my mind, clear as day."

Maureen grinned. "It's working then. I'm spinning First Beach into the fiber."

"You're what?"

"The cloth I weave with that thread will call up this place, even if you've never been here." Maureen said. "Of course it's not something I'm going to show everybody, let alone sell. I'm doing it for myself."

Sam stared down at the spindle, then back to Maureen.

"It's useless, really." Maureen said. "But the process of making it is what matters to me, not the finished product."

"All art is quite useless." Sam intoned. Maureen smiled.

"You've read Oscar Wilde."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I've read plenty of things. I'm not ignorant."

"Never said you were."

Sam Uley bent his head and smelled the spindle again, before tossing it back. Maureen fumbled, but caught the spindle with both hands.

"You're like a witch, then." Sam said.

"Nope." Maureen said. "Sorry to be frustrating, but I'm not a witch, or a magician. I'm just me. I'm Spinner."

"Spinner, then." Sam nodded. He looked amused and content for a moment. Then he scowled.

"Are the cold ones giving you trouble?"

"Cold ones?"

"The Cullens." Sam's eyes were dark. "Harry said you knew what they were."

"Oh, yeah." Maureen nodded. "No, they're not giving me trouble. Why?"

"We have a treaty." Sam said. "The Cullens and my people. But my job…what I am. I've become what I am to protect people from creatures like them."

"You became a werewolf_ just_ to fight vampires?"

Sam's jaw tightened. "That's the theory. It wasn't a voluntary choice, mind you. If the leeches hadn't come back, I….the change might not have happened at all."

_What the shit kind of deal is that?_ Maureen thought furiously. _You only get to be a wolf when the bad guys move into town? That's like your parents buying you a car just so you can play chauffeur for your senile grandmother._

"I know for a fact the Cullens haven't killed any humans yet." Sam said. "But since you're the only one off the rez who knows what they are…."

Sam's mouth twisted in a half-smile. "…Do you have any complaints?"

For a moment, Maureen was highly tempted to tell Sam Uley everything that had been going on since Bella Swan got to town. But what the hell could she say? That one of the Cullens was stalking a girl with the bizarre goal of continuing to stalk her unto eternity, instead of sucking her dry? That didn't even make any sense. And what was Sam supposed to do if she told him? Chew on Edward the next time there was a full moon? If Forks itself was helping Edward mope and salivate at the scent of Bella's blood, there was nothing anyone could do.

"They keep to themselves at school." Maureen said. "They haven't given me any trouble."

"Maureen!" Jessica's voice was far off, but distinct. "Maureen, where are you?"

"My cousin's calling." Maureen said. She tucked her spindle into her back pocket. "I'll see you around, I guess. It was nice to meet you, Sam."

Sam nodded. "It was…curious…to meet you. Spinner."

His shoulders relaxed. He looked less like a tense twenty-something, and more like a tired, oversized teen.

"Bye, and take care of yourself." He added.

Maureen took off down the shoreline, jogging as the waves rolled up the beach just shy of her shoes.

_He didn't trust me at first. Probably still doesn't trust me now._ Maureen thought. _And I don't think he likes being what he is. I'll agree, he's got the short end of the stick if his superpower obliges him to play policeman._

_And the change might hurt._ Maureen hadn't seen werewolves before this, but she knew from stories—and logic—that transforming into a beast could be painful. Ribs cracking, muscles contorting, the whole nine yards.

_Poor Sam. Poor…whoever else. If there is anyone else. Maybe he's alone, like me._

When Maureen reached the driftwood circle, everyone was packing up. "It's gonna rain soon. We're heading home." Jessica said, shouldering the sports bag.

"Sounds good to me." Maureen said. Squeezing the whorl of her spindle in her fist, she followed Jessica up the beach towards the parking lot.

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Please read & review!


	12. Bonus Chapter: Joining Up

Hidden Traces - I appreciate you reviewing every chapter! Glad you laughed at Maureen's inner monologue, and that her encounter with Sam was good...Maureen is indeed ignorant about the finer points of Meyer's werewolves. And Maureen is definitely, in a sense, reading Twilight. She's a useful device that way, for getting my opinion out. And this world is mostly the book, but I'm throwing in flavor from the movie.

Lil Artist - Thanks for being such a consistent reviewer. In response to your question, the only time I have seen someone consistently fall over themselves was during a physical improv class. It was actually very clever and realistic, but the overall affect was slapstick. And to clarify, Maureen doesn't see her abilities as useless, just what she was making at First Beach. It was effectively a trinket, like a keepsake box or a home movie. She's capable of doing more impressive things. She doesn't doubt that.

**In keeping with the prequel, I have another bonus chapter….another turning point in Maureen's life. Hope you enjoy.**

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Bonus Chapter: Joining Up

**July 4th, 1999**

"Put it down, Maureen."

Maureen shook her head. "I only have three more rounds before I'm ready to decrease."

Howard Stanley reached out, and grabbed the ball of red-orange wool slowly unwinding at Maureen's feet. Then he grabbed the hat it was attached to, right out of her hands.

"Dad, don't hold it like that! The stitches will slip off!" Maureen protested.

"I don't care." Her father said, stuffing the half-made hat into the canvas bag on their picnic blanket. He straightened up, adjusting the large apron he wore. "I need to go help at the grill, and you need to go play."

The neighborhood Fourth of July barbecue had been around for years, longer than Maureen and her family had lived here. It was a big event, held every year at the large lakeside park in the middle of their suburb. Families brought blankets and lots of food. Dads with large trucks parked grills on the soccer field, and cooked hamburgers. They'd even hired a band this year. And of course there would be fireworks, after dark.

Maureen didn't dislike it. The weather was nice, and her Dad was really good at cooking. But she _hated _when her work was taken away from her. This wasn't a concert, or a church sermon. She should be able to knit at a barbecue.

"It's not fair." Maureen complained.

"Be careful Howie, please." Cathy said. She was unpacking their cooler, pulling out cokes and sandwiches. "You don't want to stifle her creativity."

"She needs to horse around more." Maureen's father said. "She spends too much time alone."

"Your Dad has a point, sweetie." Cathy sat cross-legged next to Maureen, and pulled a tube of sunscreen out of her pocket. She started smearing it on Maureen's cheeks. "You have to be more outgoing, make more friends."

"I have friends at school." Maureen said stubbornly. She didn't bother pulling away from Cathy's greasy hands; but she grimaced at the touch.

"Not close ones. You never invite anybody over to the house." Cathy pointed out. "It's such a shame. You're so funny, and adorable. You should have _dozens_ of friends."

Maureen made a face. At age twelve, she was starting to understand why older kids said they couldn't stand their parents. Cathy and her Dad were slow, and out-of-touch. Almost everything they said was _dumb_. And on top of that, they didn't know Maureen's secrets.

Maureen's mother had left when she was nine. So Maureen was on her own, knowing what she was and knowing it was a secret that needed to be kept. She explored her nature quietly; it was easy to understand: Sewing pleased her, weaving delighted her, and spinning thread and yarn from plants and animals was a wonder unmatched. She could do things with fiber that no one else could do, that no one else would _think_ to do.

And just as it had been when her mother was with her, the world was alive…it could tell Maureen things about itself, if she asked nicely or even just listened. Maureen didn't think of it as magic. It was just the way things were.

Cathy had married Maureen's father less than four months ago. She was a sociology professor at a small college, who'd met Howard Stanley through an online dating service. They hit it off really well—soon enough, Cathy started coming over for dinner every Friday. When Howard asked his daughter what she thought of Cathy, Maureen gave him the truth.

"She's helpful and sweet, in all the worst ways and for all the wrong reasons. But she's genuinely nice. I don't hate her."

When the lease on Cathy's apartment ended later that year, she moved in with them.

Even before the wedding, Cathy had decided that Maureen, with her textile skills, was an idiot savant. She wanted to write a book about Maureen, then considered just bringing Maureen's talents into the eyes of the public. Both ideas were swiftly shot down by her father—and with no positive responses from Maureen, Cathy was forced to let the matter drop.

Maureen was glad. She didn't want to be a child prodigy…no 'art exhibits', no line of designer anythings. Maureen did sell her clothes and quilts at craft fairs from time to time, but she didn't want to do it professionally. She explained that she wanted to enjoy her childhood, a desire which Cathy, being 'sensitive to the complex feelings of children' accepted wholeheartedly.

In truth, Maureen had been terrified of stepping into the real world…which being lauded as a young prodigy would entail. As she grew into adolescence, the world got larger…and Maureen found she could not stomach the casual brutality of bullies at her school, the 'horror stories' passed off as journalism on the six o' clock news. This world was an awful place, and Maureen dreaded growing up in it. Time was a merciless uncaring thing, stretching out before her second by second.

Cathy tapped Maureen lightly on the shoulder. "There. You're all set for sunscreen. You go play on the swing set, or run around. I'll hold down the fort."

Banished from the picnic blanket, Maureen wandered aimlessly through the maze of coolers and lawn chairs. Her fingers itched to be working. She jammed her hands into her pockets, and clenched them into fists.

Stupid." She muttered under her breath. "Stupid Cathy, Stupid Dad. Stupid everybody—"

_HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO-_

Maureen's head shot up so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. She looked around wildly.

_HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO—_

There was lots of shouting going on, kids screaming and parents calling out to one another. But this voice cut through all that noise like a wire through cheese. And it wasn't an external sound, like the rest. It was coming from inside Maureen's head.

_HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO CAN YOU HEAR ME CAN YOU HEAR ME-_

Maureen ran. She dashed through the field of families, past the sandbox and jungle gym. She ran down the bike path towards the lake, sneakers thudding on the pavement.

_HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLOOOO..._

The call faded out, as she reached the lakeshore.

"Wait!" Maureen cried. "Is it you, talking? Is it this Sacramento talking?"

It hadn't sounded like Sacramento. This place wasn't very vocal, and it had never spoken like _that_.

Maureen sat down on the grass. She put her elbows on her knees, and rested her head in her hands.

"Shoot." She said.

Something whizzed past her nose, and struck an oak sapling ten feet away with a soft _thwap_.

"Okay, I shot." A voice said.

Maureen looked up. An older teenager stepped out from behind a cluster of bushes. He was a tall boy, with brown hair, light eyes and a very open face. His clothes were worn, but clean. He had a nerf gun clutched in his right hand.

"Truth, don't be an ass." Came another voice. A girl crawled out from between the bushes. She was about Maureen's age, maybe a little older. Her clothes were vibrant, a myriad of patches and patterns. Her hair was even more chaotically colorful, dyed in stripes and splotches. It looked like a kaleidoscope.

"I'll tell Lies if you don't stop." The girl declared, standing up and dusting off her hands. "She says you shouldn't get away with being such a smart aleck."

"She says that. But she and I disagree." The boy looked at Maureen. "You heard the call, didn't you?"

"You...called?" Maureen said.

"_I_ called." The girl said. "I'm Pigment."

She stepped forward, and reached out a hand. Maureen took it, and was pulled to her feet.

"We're here to play music, if that's okay." Pigment explained. "Well, not me specifically. But Truth plays the guitar, and Steep has a flute, and Cartographer can sing quite nicely. They thought they'd try and make a little money for us, since we just got here."

"You're like me." Maureen breathed. Her mind was whirling. "You came from another place."

"And one before that, and one before that, and another and another." Truth grinned. "We normally don't stay very long in any one place. But this is a nice perspective. No wars, no dragons, plenty of food. It's time for a bit of rest."

"How did you know I was here?" Maureen asked. "How did you know to call me?"

Pigment laughed. "I didn't know. But I wanted to look and see. It's a simple trick to ask a place, O where are my brethren? Where are the children of the unknowable?"

Truth was looking Maureen up and down. Maureen fidgeted under his gaze. The scrutiny was a bit intense.

"I suspect you're a bit too weak-blooded to seek anyone out on your own." Truth said. You could call, and we _might _hear it after a time…but not from very far away."

Pigment grabbed Maureen's other hand. "You should come and meet everyone. Snag's still at the house we rented, but Smith and Flat are helping set up the amps, and Scavenger is filching off the grills. Where's your motley? Are they in the park?"

"She had no gang." Truth said. His light eyes were still boring into Maureen. "She has no coterie, or crew."

"Really?" Pigment said, astonished. "How awful!"

"It's not so bad." Maureen said. "My Dad and Stepmom are okay."

"But who do you travel with?"

Maureen felt her stomach twist. "I don't travel."

Pigment looked dumbfounded. "Not even day trips?"

"It made me ill, when I was younger. I just keep myself busy here. I've got a spinning wheel—"

Oho, so you're a Spinner then!" Pigment crowed. "Perfect, O how perfect! Don't worry Spinner, you'll be among fine company with us. When it comes to craftsmen, you're not alone here."

_No._ Maureen thought_. Not anymore._

_

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_

Please, read & review! I like to see how the story is coming along, get input from readers.


	13. Watching You

**Hidden Traces** - It makes me happy to learn that Maureen's younger years are still engaging. I will point out that the 'types' of Maureen's people are fairly easy to identify by their names. They call themselves what they are. Maureen is a spinner. Ergo, a girl who dresses in lots of colors, and dyes her hair lots of colors, and calls herself Pigment, is pretty easily definable as the concept of colors. I'm aware that some of the other names I threw out are a little less obvious. But the key characters are pretty straightforward.

**Lil Artist **- There's quite enough plot concerning Maureen's weakness of power that I have planned for the future. Besides, she's not the kind of girl who wallows in self-doubt for extended periods of time...worrying about her uselessness is more Bella's schtick. Glad you liked the past...I think the slow speed at which I'm going to let Maureen's backstory dribble out might drive people crazy, though . ;P I don't mind your rambling, but if you want to give better reviews I might suggest taking the time to use proper grammar and sentence structure. You mentioned once writing from a phone, which I know is hard, but it can be done. I learned to give good feedback by treating it like a short essay.

Now that we've cleared the bonus chapter, the plot's really gonna start rolling. We're almost at the 'great unveiling' of the Twilight book, and about three chapters away from my big reveal in this fic.

* * *

Watching You

Maureen washed the nettle thread as soon as she got home. Whatever she made with it, she wanted to finish today—it would help the effect stick. Besides, there wasn't much thread to begin with. Maureen didn't even ply the thread to strengthen it, as that would have cut the length in half.

Her loom was occupied, so she jury-rigged a narrow card loom by tying the warp to the top of one off her desk legs, and cutting square pieces of stiff cardboard from a box in the basement. She set the warp two inches wide, and managed to weave roughly seven inches of tough linen before she ran out of weft. She folded and stitched the edges of the fabric, then hammered eight small eyelets into the short sides of the rectangle. Maureen finger-wove the excess warp thread into a cord, and laced the cord through the eyelets.

The end result was an undyed linen wrist cuff. It was plain, rough and unassuming. But when Maureen put her nose to it, she smelled the ocean, tasted seawater, and saw blue-green flames dancing before her eyes.

_Dried plants and sheep grease._ Maureen scoffed to herself. _And that odor will probably stick with Sam more than the smell of this thread. Because clearly, being sniffed at by angsty wackjob vampires isn't enough. The overly suspicious werewolf has to think I smell funny too._

Not that Sam had displayed much enthusiasm over being a werewolf—though he'd seemed dedicated to his responsibilities. That, at least, gave him a little leeway to be unhappy. Maureen had more sympathy for a werewolf who reluctantly guarded his people against the undead then she did for a vampire who whined about being a monster while driving around in her red convertible.

Maureen put the cuff in a shoebox, and put the box on the high shelf in her closet. She would take it out someday, when she was all alone. But it wouldn't do to wear something like that near other people. It was one thing to wear mittens that had been knitted to produce heat…mittens were supposed to keep you warm. But a wrist cuff that put one in mind of First Beach was too obviously unnatural.

_It wasn't always something to hide._ The thought popped into Maureen's mind, unbidden. _I used to make skirts of dancing fibers, shirts that dried themselves if they got wet. I stitched Snag a coat whose outsides cut any hand that grabbed it, in exchange for the bracelet Smith hammered on my wrist—_

Maureen pressed the crown of her head against the door of her closet, and breathed through her nose until she felt herself grow calm again.

The rest of the weekend was fairly overcast. Maureen worked on her loom, and did her homework—she wrote her whole Macbeth essay in one sitting, to get it out of the way. And she avoided her relatives until Sunday night, when Uncle Thomas told her to come downstairs.

"Tonight is movie night." He said, in a tone that implied this wasn't an optional event. Given that Jessica had spent as much time on the phone as Maureen had spent at her loom, his demand that everyone participate in Quality Family Time was understandable.

"I vote cheesy horror flick." Maureen said.

"Let's watch something educational." Aunt Joan said. For a woman who was fairly materialistic, she had a strange fondness for nature documentaries.

"I vote something Rated R." Jessica said. "The last three films I watched were PG-13. It's a crime."

The debate ended in a bizarre compromise, after Uncle Thomas produced a DVD of Roman Polanski's _Macbeth _from the bowels of his film collection. When Aunt Joan protested that it wasn't educational, Jessica and Maureen both reminded her that they were currently studying Macbeth in English.

"They do use the original Shakespearean verse, honey." Uncle Thomas vouched.

So they all sat down on the couch with popcorn, and watched _Macbeth_. Maureen loved the film—it was just the right level of disturbing, and the visuals were stunning despite being forty years old.

_There's a place like that._ Maureen thought to herself. _A Scotland with witches, and ghosts, and craven men. Somewhere, in all the places, there's a perspective like that._

_But it would be a sad, painful place, for those who lived there. Murdered kings. Orphaned sons. Raped serving girls._ The reality of human suffering always dimmed the wonder of a place.

_But there's no real suffering here._ Maureen reassured herself. _Not in Forks._

All in all, it was a nice evening. Maureen preferred to be alone these days, but she had been a social creature once upon a time. The company of other people wasn't a horrible thing.

Monday was sunny, with sparse white clouds that looked fluffy and benign. What little snow that had remained was gone, or turned to slush. Maureen dressed in green slacks, and a honey-colored cotton shirt with short sleeves. She put on a navy blue headband, and traded out her winter boots for a pair of sneakers.

Jessica's mood matched the weather. She snatched the Mercury's keys from Maureen's hand, and cheerfully drove them both to school. Throughout the drive, she chattered about her plans to go dress shopping in Port Angeles with Angela and Lauren.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Maureen?" Jessica asked. "Lauren wouldn't mind. She doesn't actually hate you, you know. She just thinks you're a dork."

"Oh, well now I feel _so_ much better." Maureen said. "I'll pass, thank you."

"You could go to that crafts stooooore." Jessica crooned. "They're having a yaaaaarn saaaale."

Maureen turned her head. "And how do you know that?"

"I checked their website." Jess said. "I was looking for bait to lure you into coming with us."

Maureen was stunned. "I'm touched, Jessie. Sure, okay. I'll come."

"Yay!"

_This is actually a good plan._ Maureen thought. She had been making so many things for her online store, her huge stash of supplies wasn't so huge anymore. And her next project was going to eat up most of her sock weight yarn. For unspun fibers she would have to order online—the Port Angeles store was more of a quilt, knit and scrapbook kind of place. But at least she could stock up on yarn.

Maureen spent her class time working on the first of a pair of thigh-high socks. It was a pattern she'd done before, from one of her books, but she hadn't used it in a while. She had quite a few balls of pink and yellow-splotched sock yarn in her stash, which would make for a fun print.

Whenever Maureen looked up, the brightest thing in the room was Jessica's beaming face. Mike way being very attentive towards her—he even pulled out a chair for Jessica at lunch. Maureen didn't comment. It would be in poor taste to ask Mike if Bella had finally flat-out turned him down.

Bella Swan was in distress, actually. The absence of the Super Secret Vampire Brigade was obviously bothering her, even as she talked with Angela. Bella kept glancing at the Cullens' empty table, looking sad and troubled.

"Where are they?" She asked Maureen, scooting over to sit next to her the moment Angela was distracted.

"Camping in the woods." Maureen responded automatically. Her head buzzed as Forks agreed with her: Edward was in the woods. Right outside.

_What the hell is he doing outside the school on a sunny day? He's…oh. He's here because _Bella's_ here. That stupid son of a—_

Bella frowned. "Tell me the truth, Maureen."

Maureen glared at her. _ The truth is dumb and creepy, you naïve sack of sawdust. _

"They are. In. The. Woods." Maureen repeated.

Bella obviously didn't think this was a good enough answer. She opened her mouth.

"No." Maureen stopped her. "You're asking me these questions because you want me to tell you about the Cullens. You have no interest in me otherwise. Which is_ fine_, because half the reason I give a rat's ass about _you_ is your inexplicable—"

Maureen pressed her lips together. Telling Bella that Edward Cullen was inexplicably attracted to her—let alone hungry for blood munchies—was too revealing.

But Bella had caught her pause. "My inexplicable...?"

"You echo people a lot, you know that?" Maureen said. "Look, I'm not the Help Button in a video game. Use your brain—

_Or whatever's rotting between your ears._

"—And figure it out."

"For your information, I have new theory!" Bella said hotly.

"That's super neat." Maureen said. "How about you do some research, or write a hypothesis or something, instead of staring forlornly at the Cullens' lunch table? They won't magically appear if you keep looking over there. Stop torturing yourself."

But Bella didn't.

After last period let out, Maureen got to the Mercury first. Jessica had the keys, so Maureen leaned against the car and worked on the stocking, knitting at a casual speed. She tried not to think about the fact that Edward was probably lurking off-campus, not a hundred yards away. The idea made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

After about ten minutes, Jessica arrived at the car. Her grin was a mile wide, and she was practically bouncing.

"We're not going to Port Angeles tonight!" Jessica gushed.

Maureen blinked. "…this is a good thing?"

"I'm going out on a date with Mike!" Jessica practically shrieked. "This is a f_antastic _thing!"

Maureen's ears were ringing, but smiled anyway. "That's awesome, Jess! Way to go."

"Don't worry, we can still do the Port Angeles trip tomorrow." Jessica said, unlocking the car. "But this comes first."

When they got home, Maureen put on her winter boots and went walking in the woods. She squelched through mud and sodden clumps of leaves, eyes scanning the ground.

_Are you here?_ She called. _Are you still sleeping? I'm looking for you._

They answered. But the call was very faint. Most of the hemp and nettle plants hadn't sprouted yet, and the ones that had were just small shoots. Maureen used her pocketknife to cut a young stalk of Canadian hemp from the ground. She wasn't a bontanist by half, but the cellulose fibers in the hemp gave her a tenuous connection to the plant. It made it easier to gauge when they would reach maturity. Examining the stalk, Maureen guessed the bulk of the crop had about two weeks. Maybe less.

"Dork powers activate." Maureen muttered. She had to admit her less-than-human capabilities were kind of stupid sometimes. Lauren's opinion of her wasn't completely unfounded.

She was exploring around a clearing when Rosalie found her. The vampire's arrival was silent, but Maureen noticed her as soon as she stepped into the clearing. In the direct sunlight, Rosalie's skin looked like it had been dusted in a thick coat of body glitter.

"Hi, Rosalie." Maureen raised a hand to her eyes, squinting. "I can't actually see you all that well. You look like a Christmas tree ornament."

"You mean the angel at the top of the tree." Rosalie corrected. Quicker than Maureen's eyes could follow, she dashed to the shade at the edge of the clearing.

"I thought you went hunting in the mountains." Maureen said. "Don't you do that when it's sunny?"

"Not all the time." Rosalie said, hands resting on her thighs. It was a very vampiric pose—a human would have put their hands into their pockets, or hooked their thumbs into their belt loops. "We have visitors in the house."

"Visitors?"

"Jasper's friends, Peter and Charlotte. Other vampires. Don't worry, they don't hunt people in Forks."

"So they're the people-eating kind of vampire." Maureen chewed her lip. "Huh. I'm almost curious to meet one. Do they look any different from your lot?"

"Their eyes are dark red, instead of gold." Rosalie said. "That's about it. They're nice company, this couple. We're going to play football with them, later today."

"…you play football?"

Rosalie sniffed. "I assure you, it's not my pastime of choice. Baseball is much more fun."

Maureen had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. _Vampire team sports. Just when I thought the vampires here couldn't get any dumber._

"Sounds like a blast." Maureen managed to say with a straight face. "Aside from Jasper's visitors, how was your weekend?"

"Passable." Rosalie said. "But the _real_ topic of interest is what I managed to pry out of Alice."

"Her ribcage?"

"No, I'm being serious. You might want to sit down for this one."

Maureen perched on a half-felled tree. "Is this more Bella Incident gossip? I'm not really in the mood."

"You'll want to hear this. It's bad news. I swear, the longer this goes on, the more imbecilic Edward gets."

Maureen made a face. "Is this actual bad news? Or do you just_ think_ it's bad? The chauvinism-masquerading-as-romance thing is repulsive as hell, but everyone here gets worked up about the most useless little thi—"

"Edward has been spying on Bella while she sleeps."

Maureen didn't say anything for a moment. The first thought that had come in to her head—though followed quickly by a wave of incredulous disgust—was that she didn't want to get mad again. Being furious at Tyler and Edward had drained her of energy, and made her feel sick. She'd come to Forks so she wouldn't have to feel like that.

"I believe it." Maureen finally said. "Forks said he was at school. Today. Not _in_ the school, but…nearby."

Rosalie scoffed. "He thinks he's so subtle about it. But Alice confided in me that she'd seen visions of Edward looking through Bella's windows, and standing over the girl. He watches her while she sleeps, nearly every night. I'm not surprised he'd do it during the daytime, too."

"Alice _predicted_ this?" Maureen was dumbfounded. "But she didn't try to stop him?"

"Alice says she didn't see Bella Swan in danger from it. Edward has been doing this for a while. Really, I think everyone in our house knows. The rest of the family is just being tactful…or as tactful as you can get around a mind-reader."

Rosalie smirked. "And Alice made me promise not to use the information to taunt Edward to his face."

"Did you promise to keep this information, I dunno….a _private family matter_?" Maureen asked.

Rosalie waved a hand dismissively. "Alice didn't say one way or the other. And I think she overlooks you sometimes. You show up fuzzy on her radar…she told me the other day that she had no idea what you and Bella were going to talk about. Only that you would."

Rosalie frowned. "What _did_ you and the Swan girl discuss, anyway?"

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. Makeup, boys, shopping…and the fact that I wasn't going to dish out the Cullen Family's uber-secrets. So if Bella finds out, it's not my fault."

"You think she will?"

"I think Forks is going to give her the information on a fucking silver platter."

"No, she can't." Rosalie shook her head. "She can't find out. It's different for you…it was_ always_ different for you. But this dumb little girl is entirely human, and we can't silence her without trouble. She can't find out."

"It's inevitable." Maureen said. "I'm not even going to try and keep _my_ nature secret from her, if she figures out what you guys are."

Maureen stood up. "But on a more serious note, fuck Alice. You have to confront Edward with the fact that you know what he's been doing."

"Because he deserves to be belittled?"

"Because he deserves to be slapped in the face with a goddamned restraining order!" Maureen cried. She felt the anger she'd tamped down rising in her chest.

Rosalie laughed. "Vampires—even we vegetarians—aren't really subject to the finer points of the human legal system."

Maureen groaned. "Rosalie, I'm serious. Edward has gone too far. He can't keep stalking Bella. I don't care if she's oblivious to it. It's invasive and disrespectful, at the _very least_."

Rosalie pondered this.

"You know, I think he realizes it's disrespectful." She said. "He certainly understands the concept of privacy. It drives him crazy when Emmett goes through his CD collection without asking."

Rosalie shrugged her shoulders. "If you want my opinion, Edward probably felt guilty about it for a bit, then justified it to himself and did it anyway. That's typical of him."

"Oh good." Maureen said. "So he's not just an obsessive stalker, he's a _delusional _obsessive stalker. This needs to end."

"Well, how am I supposed to stop it?" Rosalie asked. "I'm not his damn keeper."

"Talk to him!"

"And say what?"

"You say: 'Stop the hypocrisy, Edward. Either understand that stalking is wrong and stop doing it, or say there's nothing wrong, totally accept you depravity as normal, and kiss any chance you have of being a decent person goodbye. This middle of the road shit is getting annoying.' That's what you say."

Maureen took a deep breath. "You should go play football. I'm going to walk back home. Please do not follow me, or lurk outside my house. Or_ in _my house. That goes double for the rest of your family."

A thought occurred to Maureen. "Did any of you ever lurk outside my house, in the past?"

"No." Rosalie said. "We left you entirely alone. Jasper was very adamant about that."

It didn't sound like a lie.

"Tell Jasper I said hi." Maureen said. She hadn't spoken to him in over a year. But if she was spending time with Rosalie now, she ought to spend time with Jasper too. He, at least, could comprehend human boundaries.

"I will."

By the time Maureen made her way back to the Stanley house, Jessica had left for her date with Mike. Maureen ate dinner listlessly, then did her homework. What little there was, she finished quickly and sloppily. She tried to occupy herself—knitting the stockings, finishing the cloth on her loom. But she couldn't focus. The idea of Edward following Bella's every movement, standing in the girl's room while she slept—and yet still retaining his holier-than-thou attitude—left a sour taste in her mouth.

Normally, Maureen would have gone to Jessica for a distraction. But her cousin wouldn't be home for hours. Nearly in tears from frustration, Maureen brushed her teeth viciously and climbed into bed. If she could sleep, she wouldn't have to think about it.

But sleep didn't come. After thirty minutes that felt like two hours, Maureen went to the bathroom and poured herself a half-dose of Nyquil. By the time she lay back down in bed, she could feel the medicine kicking in—like a giant hand, slowly pushing her down into the mattress.

Maureen dreamed that night, an unwelcome, bizarre scene. Three figures in black hooded cloaks stood on a foggy hill in Scotland. It was night, and the moon was enormous and bright in the sky. Edward Cullen approached the figures, dressed in knight's clothes and riding on a horse. He looked proud, and disdainful.

"How now, you secret black and midnight hags?" He sneered at the three. He had an English accent. "What is't you do?"

"A deed without a name!" Maureen crowed, throwing back her hood.

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…you have got to be kidding." The second figure tossed off her hood. It was Rosalie—but she was speaking with Maureen's voice.

"I conjure you, by that which you profess—" Edward said.

"I'm not a damn witch!" Rosalie said, in her Maureen-voice. "I'm a descendant of the things that make the world. It doesn't mean anything special. It is what it is. There are a million like me, and none _exactly_ like me."

"Howe'er you come to know it." Edward continued. "Answer me!"

The third figure pushed back her hood. It was Bella Swan.

"I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks." Bella said. "And the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter."

Her voice was matter-of-fact, and obstinate. It broke the foggy hill to pieces.

Maureen sat up in bed. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts, and remember where she was and what she had just dreamed.

"What the hell." Maureen said. She rubbed her sternum. Her whole body was clammy with sweat.

"It's neurons firing randomly in my brain." She muttered. "Or Forks trying to tell me something. Either way, I do_ not _have to give a shit. I do not."

* * *

If you have any questions about the story, don't hesitate to ask. : )

Hope you enjoyed the spurt of updates! I'll be back on Monday. Please read & review!


	14. Night On The Town

Thanks lil artist and Amarth Obstreperous for the reviews. My weekend was superb, I hope everyone else's was too.

If I understand you correctly, Amarth Obstreperous, you think my fic is is the wrong category because I'm not writing in favor of Twilight. I'd say that's somewhat valid. Most people who might stumble across this fic would have no interest in a story that refused to roll around in the angst of teenage love. But some have, and they're still reviewing occasionally. And probably even more are reading and not leaving any messages. So I suppose all is well. This story is in the right category because it's set in Twilight. It can't be helped if it isn't appealing to the tween masses. ; )

* * *

A Subtle Difference

Maureen woke up again when her alarm went off, several hours later. She felt better, albeit very weary.

_I've been having mood swings for over a week._ Maureen thought quietly, hands over her face. _Bouncing back and forth between happy and sad, excited and furious. It's a wonder I'm not more of a mess._

Despite her unpleasant evening and weird dream, Maureen packed her knitting in her school bag. It was the right move. As soon as she sat down in English, she felt her fingers itch to work. So she did.

Jessica excitedly described her date with Mike, and there was much joy and fuss made over it being yet another sunny day. But none of these things—let alone class itself—proved interesting or interrupting. So Maureen knit the pink and yellow stocking, decreasing the round just a little as the leg grew longer and longer. She slipped back into a peaceful state, with nothing in her head but the twist of yarn and shift of needles.

"Lauren's not coming to Port Angeles." Jessica informed her in the cafeteria, before Maureen could slink off with her lunch tray. "But Bella and Angela are. You still in?"

"Sure." Maureen said. She took her tray over to an empty table—the Cullens' table, as a matter of fact—and sat down. Propping her feet up on a chair, she spent the period eating, then knitting.

After school Jessica and Maureen followed Bella's orange truck back to her house. Bella dropped off her school things, and they all went to Angela's house in the Mercury. Maureen graciously offered Angela the front passenger's seat, and climbed in the back with Bella.

"Hey." Maureen said, as Jessica drove out of the residential area. Bella eyed her warily, like she was a rabid badger.

"…what?" Maureen asked.

Bella frowned, pouting angrily. "I…nothing."

"Nothing my ass. You're still mad about yesterday, aren't you?" Maureen asked. "Seriously, don't waste your time."

"Don't waste my time getting mad?"

"I say what I want to say, but it's your choice to put up with it." Maureen crossed her arms. "If I'm really making you uncomfortable, tell me so and I'll put the brakes on."

"Well, that's nicer than anything Lauren has ever said to me." Bella said. "And more honest.'

"Ignore Lauren." Maureen said. "In less than two years, neither you or I will ever have to speak to her again."

"If we survive that long." Bella said.

Maureen raised her eyebrows. "Holy shit. Dark humor. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Angela turned on the radio, and the four of them spent the rest of the ride in conversation—or more accurately, Jess talked incessantly about the boys in their grade, while Maureen occasionally threw in a mocking one-liner. Angela and Bella did little besides smile and nod.

Maureen understood feeling introverted. She frequently chose to be alone, and didn't have Jessica's constant drive to fill the air with words. But Maureen didn't understand _being_ introverted—never wanting to shout, or blather, never wanting to engage in lively, outgoing conversation. Both were important. Besides, Angela's meek personality could be just as annoying as Jessica's vibrant one.

Port Angeles was essentially a tourist trap, with lots of little souvenir-and-sundry shops situated on the main streets and by the boardwalk. The functional buildings intended for permanent residents—supermarket, post office, department store—were a few blocks away from the quaint tourist-friendly area.

"It's a semiformal." Jessica said, as they entered the store. "Maureen, what kind of dresses does that mean?"

Maureen snorted. "I don't know _everything _about clothes, Jessie. Let alone fashion etiquette."

"Guess, then!"

"I dunno…a cocktail dress? Maybe?"

Jessica turned to Bella. "Do you know what semiformal means?"

Bella blushed. "No. I've never been to a dance."

Jess was astonished, and demanded the details. Maureen tuned out the conversation. As far as she was concerned, the adolescents of Phoenix Arizona were ten times more perceptive than the students at Forks High School. At least in Phoenix, they'd apparently understood that Bella Swan had about as much personality as a wooden spoon.

_They didn't think she was special. But their neglect just makes her all the more special here. She's an undiscovered gem._ Maureen scowled.

The dress shopping was short, and sweet. Jessica could be fickle about her clothes, and Maureen had worried that her cousin would want to try on every dress she could. But Jessica narrowed her options down quickly, and got Bella's opinion for her final choice. They looked for accessories after that, and Maureen and Jessica hunched over the jewelry displays like vultures while Angela and Bella dawdled in the shoe section.

"Blue gems, or rhinestones?" Jessica asked.

"There's too much blue in your dress already." Maureen said. "Match your jewelry to your shoes."

Jessica grinned. "See, you're good at this! I can trust you to steer me right. Aren't you glad you came?"

"Oh, yeah. It's been a wild ride so far." Maureen said dryly. Jess laughed, and hugged Maureen around the shoulders.

Dinner was going to be at a restaurant called _La Bella Italia_, but they had an hour or so to kill before it was really time to eat. They loaded the shopping bags into Jessica's car, and discussed what they should do next.

"I'm going to go check out the bookstore." Bella said.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Jess asked. Bella shook her head.

"You should go do something fun." The pale brunette said. "I'll probably get really absorbed."

_Like boiled water into a really boring sponge. _Maureen cleared her throat. "Anyone want to go to the crafts store with me?"

Jessica made a face. "I've been there before. I know you helped me out today, but I'd rather take a walk or something. Is that okay?"

"A walk sounds good." Angela said.

Maureen shrugged. "Whatever."

The crafts store was one of the tourist-type shops, and it sold lots of souvenirs and scrapbooking materials in the front. But the cotton and yarn selection wasn't bad at all. And true to Jessica's research, they were having a big sale on the latter.

"Those brands are being discontinued." The lady at the counter said, gesturing at the back wall of the store. "So they're all marked down."

Maureen dove in like a five-year-old at a candy store. There was a collection of natural/poly blends, all-washable, which Maureen could work with—she wasn't fond of artificial fiber, but it wasn't like it burned her flesh. There was aran weight wool in assorted solids, tie-dyed angora, and fuzzy mohair. Maureen also flipped through the knitting patterns and picked out a few new ones, like a button-up knit vest and a cowl with pretty spirals.

In the end Maureen spent a sizable chunk of cash, and it took three big plastic bags to hold everything. She headed back towards the restaurant. Jessica and Angela were waiting outside.

"Did you clean them out?" Jessica goggled at the bags.

"Only a little." Maureen said. "Can we put these in your car?"

Throwing the bags in the trunk, the three girls walked into the foyer of the Italian restaurant. But Bella wasn't there. And she still wasn't there twenty minutes later.

"She won't answer her phone." Jessica said, after leaving a third message.

_She probably fell on it. With her falling flaw._ Maureen thought. Her stomach rumbled.

"I'm starving. We should eat." Maureen said. "If she got distracted by a book, she's not gonna be pissed at us."

"Bella's nice." Angela agreed. Maureen grimaced. _That's not really what I was trying to say._

They'd looked at the menu while waiting in the foyer, so they ordered as soon as the waitress came over. The food showed up quickly, and Maureen dug into her gnocchi eagerly.

"Hey." She said, chewing. "This is pretty damn good."

Angela made a confused face. "You've never been here before?"

We went to the fish restaurant on the west side of Port Angeles for my birthday…last two birthdays, actually." Maureen explained. "I have never set foot into _La Bella Italia_ until today."

"Even _I_ keep forgetting you've only been here a year or so." Jess confessed. "It's like you've always been around. Guess you're a permanent fixture now."

"Perfect." Maureen grinned. "It's always been my dream to be a bathtub faucet."

_I suppose I'm part of the crowd, now, even with my antisocial habits. _Maureen thought. The key was to be uninteresting…to present yourself plainly, with a no-bullshit attitude. Without something for people to explore, they stopped looking at you. It was anti-seduction. She'd told Bella as much, at First Beach.

_She gets attention because she's so mysterious. Everyone wants to discover her hidden depths. There's nothing to find, but they don't know that. So they'll never stop being interested, never stop looking at her. _

The three girls split the bill, and left a mutual tip composed of a few singles and loose change. They headed out the door into the cool night, zipping up their jackets. Maureen took a deep breath, tasting briny air from the harbor on her tongue.

"It's late." Said Angela, otherwise known as Captain Obvious.

"Jess! Angela! Maureen!"

Maureen turned. Bella was standing at the other end of the block, waving awkwardly. A familiar tall figure in a grey peacoat and douchy hair stood beside her.

"I am deeply unsurprised." Maureen muttered.

Jess and Angela were very surprised, however. They jogged over to Bella and Edward, Maureen fastwalking to keep up with them.

"Where have you been?" Jess demanded.

"I got lost." Bella said. Even under the streetlights, her cheeks were visibly blushing with embarrassment. "And then I ran into Edward."

_Ran into. That's cute. _Maureen thought. _Cute like breaking into someone's house and watching them sleep._

Edward didn't even twitch, or miss a beat. "Would it be alright if I joined you?"

"Er…sure." Jessica said. In the space of half a second, she'd gone from concerned to swooning.

_We ate already! _Maureen thought. _God dammit, Jess._

Angela picked up the slack. "Um, actually Bella, we already ate while we were waiting—sorry."

Maureen rubbed her stomach. "It was delicious."

"That's fine—I'm not hungry." Bella said.

"I think you should eat something." Edward said firmly.

_Says Daddy to his little girl._ Maureen scowled. Edward was looking at Jessica, but she saw his eyes narrow in anger.

"Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

Jessica was still distracted by Edward's face, but she'd picked up the authoritative, pushy tone in his voice. She looked at Bella, silently asking what the girl wanted.

_Thanks, Jess._ Maureen thought.

Then Bella Swan—generic unextraordinaire—actually winked. Maureen had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. Jessica didn't seem to get it, but Angela did.

"Okay." Angela said, grabbing Jessica's hand. "See you tomorrow, Bella…Edward. Come on, Maureen." Angela pulled Jessica away. Rolling her eyes, Maureen turned to follow.

A cold hand closed over her upper arm. She froze. This was the first time that Edward had ever touched her. And he was grabbing her—not gently, but Maureen got the impression it was gentle to _him_.

"Get in your car." Edward said. "You get in your car, and you drive straight back to Forks. All three of you, right now. Do it."

Maureen raised her eyebrows. This didn't sound like Edward's normal rudeness. His voice was terse as usual, but there was rage underneath—boiling rage, and disgust. And something else. Fear, maybe?

Maureen was callous, insulting, and unapologetic. But she knew when smartass comments became truly inappropriate. Now was one of those times.

"Please tell me why." Maureen asked, voice low and polite. "If it's that urgent, I have a right to know. Please, Edward."

The hand on her bicep tightened slightly.

"There is a serial rapist in Port Angeles." Edward said. "He's walking around with a gang of rowdy drunks. I got Bella away, but this man will not be thwarted. He wants to rape, and kill. Go home. Now."

He let Maureen go.

She walked quickly down the street, without looking back. The girls were already by the Mercury, Jess fumbling with the keys.

"I'm driving." Maureen said, plucking the keys from Jessica's hand.

"No, this is my trip, I planned it—" Jess insisted, beginning their usual banter.

Maureen cut her off. "Not now. Get in the car. You too, Angela. We're going home."

"What's wrong, Maureen?" Angela said, climbing into the backseat and buckling her seatbelt.

"She wants to get me out of here before I start spying on them through the windows." Jessica said. "Believe me, I would."

Maureen gunned the engine and swung out of the parking spot, speeding down the road.

_You wouldn't be the first to spy on Bella through a window._ Maureen thought. _A vampire beat you to it. A vampire who chews on deer, and rescues empty girls from serial rapists—HOW is there a rapist here? WHY? They shouldn't exist. Forbidden. Verboten. Impossible. This place doesn't have real pain. So there should be no real murderers, thieves or rapists. This is FORKS._

_Unless it's Port Angeles—_

_No, it bloody well is not. It's still Forks. It's all Forks. There is no difference in this context!_ Maureen screamed silently. She gripped the wheel, palms sweaty with stress and confusion.

"I'll call Bella when we get home." Jess announced, oblivious to Maureen's internal turmoil.

"She won't be back by then." Angela pointed out.

"Oh, shoot. Okay, I'll give her thirty minutes. Maybe twenty. I have _got _to know what she and Edward talk about at dinner!"

_I don't want to know._ Maureen thought miserably. _I just want to go home. I just want to be numb._

There was numbness. There was apathy. But it wasn't enough. _He wants to rape, and kill._

Maureen pressed down on the gas. It was going to be a long drive home.

* * *

_A/N One of the things that's always ticked me about Twilight is how most of the obstacles are trivial and full of useless drama...and then Meyer throws in something serious, like mental asylums or sexual assault, as if that will make the story more real and convincing._

Read & Review. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Next update is Wednesday.


	15. Failure To Communicate

Sorry this chapter is a bit late, folks. I was really tired last night, and I fell asleep early and woke up late.

KiBird, thank you so much for your kind review. I'm touched, and always glad to know people are willing to take the time and flip through this story and the previous. I hope you like the rest of it.

This is the first of what I refer to as: 'the three exposition chapters'. Please enjoy.

* * *

Failure To Communicate

"Did you have fun in Port Angeles yesterday?" Aunt Joan asked at breakfast. She'd gone to bed early the previous night. Uncle Thomas had been the one who'd stayed up, to make sure Jessica and Maureen kept their curfew.

"Uhm-hm." Maureen nodded, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. She got up from the kitchen table, and turned the stove on under the teakettle.

All in all, it _had_ been a successful trip. Maureen had gotten her yarn. Jessica had gotten her dress…and the promise of a juicy story.

Jess had called Bella approximately forty minutes after they'd gotten home. She would have called the Swan house even earlier (and then again, and again, leaving messages until Bella got home). But in an impulsive act worthy of a seven-year-old, Maureen had grabbed Jessica's cell phone, along with all the other phones in the house, and locked herself in her bedroom.

"It's for your own good." Maureen called softly through the door. She and Jess had to argue quietly, since their Aunt was asleep across the hall. It was fun to hear Jessica try to scream in whispers. "Learn some restraint."

"Idiot!" Jessica had hissed when Maureen finally emerged. She grabbed her cell phone. "What the hell possessed you to hold all the phones hostage?"

_Desperation._ Maureen thought. After the agonizing drive home, with nothing in her head but thoughts of rapists and murderers, she'd needed an immediate distraction.

It had worked. And Maureen still felt better in the morning. She'd done a bit of thinking about the whole thing last night, and had worked out a better understanding of how a piece of human garbage like that could come to exist in a perspective like Forks.

_And even if I don't fully understand it, I shouldn't let it bother me._ Maureen thought wryly. _I've been to more confusing places, after all. Like the one where two plus two equals five._

In many ways, that was the problem. In each perspective, the rules changed. It was hard to stay calm and sane, when the definition of sanity shifted from place to place.

"I thought I understood Forks. How it worked." Maureen said quietly, leaning her head against a kitchen cupboard as she waited for the kettle to boil. "Clearly, I didn't. I just have to keep an open mind. Accepting things is not the same as liking them."

"Did you say something, Maureen?" Aunt Joan asked.

"No." Maureen lifted her head from the cupboard.

Maureen didn't think she would ever really like it here. The personalities—or lack thereof—of most of Forks' inhabitants put a big damper on the town's appeal.

"You drive today." Jessica ordered her. "I have to hurry and return Bella's jacket."

"An act unmotivated by any personal agenda, I'm sure." Maureen joked. She'd heard Jessica's half of the conversation with Bella last night.

"Shut up. I can't believe you stole all the phones in the house."

"I agree; it was a silly thing to do." Maureen said cheerfully. "But no harm was done, so I'm not sorry."

Jessica held Bella's coat on her lap as they drove to school, and she jumped out of the car as soon as Maureen shifted into park. Maureen took her time turning off the car, and getting her book bag out of the backseat.

A red blur sped into the parking space next to Jessica's Mercury, jerking to a stop. Maureen flattened against the door, as the engine of Rosalie's red convertible—with Rosalie behind the wheel—quieted, then stopped

Rosalie looked up at Maureen smugly. "Sorry. Didn't see you there."

"Like hell you didn't." Maureen eyed the convertible. "I thought you said this car was too flashy for school."

"Edward is picking Bella up in his Volvo." Emmett said, vaulting out of the front passenger seat without opening the door.

"And your perfectly inconspicuous jeep suddenly broke down." Maureen said. "Forcing you to take the bright red sports car."

"I deserve to show off a little, now and again." Rosalie said, her voice lofty and proud. "It's not a big deal."

"It is not a big deal." Alice echoed stiffly, climbing out of the backseat. Jasper followed her, shutting the convertible door.

"Hey, Jasper." Maureen said. "How're you doing?"

Jasper gave her a small smile. "Well enough, Maureen. Yourself?"

"I'm decent."

"You should walk Maureen to class, Jasper." Alice said. "Since her cousin ran off so fast."

"Only if he behaves like a gentleman." Rosalie warned. "We have enough stupid males in this family already."

Emmett laughed. "But babe, you said you loved me just the way I am."

"If I'm allowed to get _any_ say in this, I don't need to be walked to my class." Maureen said. "I can make it there without the buddy system."

"Then accept it as friendly company." Jasper said. "Unless you don't want to be seen walking with me."

Maureen snorted. "Even if I gave a shit, nobody would notice. I'm obscure. Are you okay walking with _me_?"

In response, Jasper offered her his arm. Maureen rolled her eyes, but took it. It was like resting her hand on a cold iron railing.

They strolled out of the parking lot, and up the path. Once they cleared the lot, the groups of students grew fewer and farther between.

"Seriously, are you okay with this?" Maureen asked. "Do I still smell bad?"

"Like onions and crabapples." Jasper said. "I don't feel sated. But smelling you, I'm not hungry either."

"That's good. Creepy, but good."

"I don't wish to be creepy. I'm…" Jasper paused. "I wanted to say sorry, again. For dislocating your shoulder. I never wanted to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anybody."

"I appreciate your apology." Maureen said. "And I'm going to tell you again, I forgive you. It wasn't your fault, and I'm not mad at you for that. Getting blown off by your family for everyone's 'protection'...that's what got me mad."

"Edward had a fair point." Jasper said. "I won't deny that."

"He has fewer legs to stand on, these days." Maureen responded.

"You'd think that." Jasper laughed. "But look. He's risking our safety, spending time with a human girl in public. He could loose control and drain her at any minute; he knows it, we know it. But nobody's stopping him. He hasn't gotten so much as a slap on the wrist. Esme's all hopeful smiles. Carlisle just nods and accepts it."

"Edward's the favorite son."

"Favorite son, first son." Jasper shrugged. "I admit I gloated, when he was struggling. Finally, he understood what I was going through. He was forced to empathize with me. It's been about him, these past eight weeks. About his obstacles, and his triumphs. He's working past his thirst."

"But…?"

"But I'm still struggling. I have been, all this time. All the problems in the world don't stop just because Edward has issues."

"I'm sure he thinks that." Maureen said. "But he's wrong."

They parted ways outside the English building; Maureen hung up her coat and went into her classroom. She sat down in the back, pulling out her double pointed needles. Maureen had finished the first thigh-high stocking yesterday night, after putting all the phones back. This morning she'd started on the second, but she hadn't gotten more than an inch past the cuff.

Maureen spent the next five minutes knitting quickly and comfortably…until Bella Swan sat down in the desk beside her,

"Hi."

Maureen looked up. Bella's brown eyes were wide as saucers.

"…Hi." Maureen said.

"I got my coat back from Jessica." Bella said.

"Good for you." Maureen said.

"And I had an…informative evening. With Edward." Bella glanced around the room, making sure no one else was within earshot. "I found out about his, um. His diet."

_What? OH._

Maureen blew out a breath. "Okay. Well, then. Took you long enough. Glad we're finally on the same page."

Maureen was about to continue knitting, when something occurred to her.

"Wait a second…" Maureen put the stocking down on her desk, and turned in her seat to face Bella.

"If you know about Edward and his family now, why the hell did you let him drive you to school? Or did you turn him down, and drive yourself?"

_That would have been an awesome thing to see._

Bella shook her head. "No, he drove me. He knew I didn't have a jacket, and he was trying to be nice. How did you know he drove me to school? You weren't in the parking lot."

"I have my sources." Maureen said.

"Like spirits and spells?" Bella asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Maureen was flabbergasted. "_What?_"

"Well, you're a witch, aren't you? Or do you not use spirits? I imagine you'd definitely use spells."

Maureen's face was burning with anger and confusion. "Did Edward tell you I was a witch?"

Bella made a worried face. "I thought…you said it was okay to ask him about you."

"I said it was okay…I didn't expect him to lie outright!" Maureen hissed.

"He lied?"

"If he told you I was a witch, he lied through his fucking pointy teeth. What the hell did he say to you?"

Bella bit her lip, the crease in her forehead deepening. "You only came up in passing last night. I wanted to know what you talked about, when he grabbed your arm outside the restaurant. Then I asked what you were, because apparently you were special too. He said you were someone who, if you'd live three hundred years ago, would've been burned at the stake."

Maureen's eyelid twitched.

Bella shrugged. "So I thought you were a witch. Are you not a witch?"

"No Bella, I am not a witch." Maureen said flatly. "I think Edward was commenting on my attitude, not my supernatural capabilities."

_Rot in hell with a cactus up your ass, you stupid pussy vampire. Burned at the stake…fuck you!_

Bella looked genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry he said that."

"You're apologizing for _Edward's_ snide comment." Maureen said disgustedly. "Is your zodiac sign the Doormat?"

"My zodiac sign is Virgo."

Maureen blinked. "Yes. Yes it is. You couldn't be more of a virgin if you tried."

Bella blushed, cheeks flushing from pink to red.

"Oh, don't take it so damn hard." Maureen said. "I'm pissed at Edward, not you. But I do have to admit, he was never this much of a prick last year. I think you bring out the worst in him."

"If this is his worst, I'd be overwhelmed by his best." Bella said. "Last night was like a dream. He was so kind, and smart, and _dazzling_."

"Dazzling? As in charming? I assume he told you he wants to suck you dry like a deer fawn, right?"

Bella's red cheeks turned pale.

_God, I hate it when she does that._ Maureen thought.

"You don't understand." Bella said.

"So explain it." Maureen prompted. "Explain why you let a guy whose wants to drink your blood give you a ride to school in his Volvo."

Bella looked mortified.

"It's hard to explain." She said. "And he could be listening to us talk."

"He's _listening_ to us?"

"He said he'd listen through Jessica's mind when I talk to her in Trig today." Bella murmured. "So I don't want to explain it. It's embarrassing. He can't possibly like me as much as I like him."

"I think you're underestimating Edward's psychotic co-dependence issues." Maureen said.

Bella frowned.

"Edward was right. You really do have a negative opinion about everyone."

Maureen groaned. "No! That's not the point. The point I'm trying to make is that you don't know jack shit about Edward, and what you _do_ know is that he's a vampire, and a stalker!"

"He was following me in Port Angeles to protect me." Bella said. She blushed again. "It's kind of flattering."

"It's _flattering_? Bella! There's choosing to see the best in people, and then there's _willful ignorance_." Maureen said. "Do you honestly—"

Mr. Mason walked into the classroom, closing the door behind him. "Okay, kids. If memory serves, we left off at act four, scene four. Open your books while I get settled."

Maureen sat up, as Bella leaned away from her.

* * *

A/N: _Originally I wrote a part of Maureen and Bella's conversation where Bella admitted being "unconditionally and irrevocably in love" with Edward, and Maureen banged her own head repeatedly on her desk in response. But at this point in the book, Bella would not have admitted the depth of her feelings…especially since she knew Edward could spy on her through people's minds. So it got cut. _

Read & Review!


	16. In Your Philosophy

Ah, Kazane, thank you for your review. You're one chapter too early, though! If there was one chapter I would have been begging you to review, it was this one. I hope you can.

At any rate, I'm glad I was able to bring out more of Maureen's personality. The big reason for why she doesn't usually feel more than boredom or irritation is explained in this chapter.

The dream scene was not meant for Habetrot the fairytale character (or any of the Habetrot) to enter. It was just Maureen having a strange dream, and hearing something Bella had been thinking. The line about blaming the town of Forks is one of my inspirations for Maureen's understanding of the world. Bella was blaming Forks like it was a person, and I thought: 'That makes perfect sense. It's all Forks' fault.' So I wanted to put that line in the story.

**THIS is one of the more important chapters in the whole book, and one of my favorites. If the details of Maureen's species and why she's in Forks were annoyingly vague to you, the following chapter should help to clear some of that up. I would love if I could get input on this chapter from everyone.**

* * *

In Your Philosophy

Neither girl spoke for the rest of the period. Bella kept her nose in her book, and Maureen kept her copy of Macbeth open on her desk, spine broken, so it looked like she was reading while she knit in her lap. As usual, the second stocking was coming along much faster than the first.

Maureen worked on the stocking all morning, stubbornly refusing to be distracted. When Jessica flew into their math class and sat down next to Bella with a squeal of "Tell me everything!" Maureen moved to a desk on the far side of the room.

"Vampires suck." Maureen muttered to herself.

In Government, she stayed in her seat after the lunch bell rang. She'd had a big breakfast, and wanted to finish the upper knee of the stocking before she stopped working on it. Mr. Jefferson gave her a suspicious look—like it was suddenly occurring to him that Maureen had been less than attentive during his lesson. But he shrugged it off, and left the classroom.

When Maureen finished the last inch, she shouldered her backpack and walked to the cafeteria. Students were spilling out of the doors, and crowding the lunch line. Edward and Bella had a table all to themselves, though. And the other four Cullens were in their usual spot, glaring at the awkward couple.

_They're not even trying to play happy siblings._ Maureen thought. _Huh._

Maureen walked straight up to them. "Hey, guys. How was your morning?"

Three heads turned. Rosalie kept staring straight ahead. But she was the one who spoke first.

"_I am going to set everything he owns on fire_." This through clenched teeth, and flared nostrils.

"Will arson make Edward less of a jackass?" Maureen asked.

"Don't encourage her, please." Emmett said. Maureen looked down, and realized Emmett didn't just have his arm wrapped casually around Rosalie's waist. He was _pinning_ her to him, trying to keep Rosalie in her seat.

"Whoa."

Alice looked rueful. "Edward told Bella about us." She said quietly. "I tried to keep it a secret, but we can all hear Bella talking to him quite clearly."

"Is that what's making you mad?" Maureen asked. "Rosalie, I _told _you Bella was going to find out."

"I didn't believe _you_!" Rosalie spat. "Why would I? Half of what you say sounds like gibberish!"

"Oh, well gee! Thanks. Thanks a lot." Maureen said bitterly. She looked over at Jasper. He was staring at Edward and Bella again, face frozen in a rictus of angst.

"It's not fair." He said. "It's not fair. It's not safe. And it's not right."

"I think you should go, Maureen." Emmett said apologetically. "This is kind of a family thing."

"I see that now." Maureen said. "Sorry for bugging you."

She turned on her heel, and marched out of the cafeteria. She didn't feel like staying in the room.

_And now I'm even less hungry._ Maureen thought. She walked towards outside doors at first, to go to the woods. But that was where she sat with Rosalie. Maureen turned back around, and headed for the girl's bathroom. It was empty when she got there. She turned on the faucet, and splashed water on her face.

"I need a little peace of mind." Maureen said. She dropped her backpack at her feet, and leaned her head against the grubby bathroom mirror. "I need a little calm."

She heard the bathroom door swing open.

"Oh…hey, Maureen."

"Or you could send Isabella fucking Swan back my way." Maureen muttered. "Nothing's more calming than an empty bag of air."

"Did you say something?" Bella asked.

"If you need to use the toilets, I'd recommend the one on the far left." Maureen said. She pointed without lifting her head from the mirror. "It's the least likely to spit water back at you when you flush."

"…Thanks." Bella stepped into the cubicle, and shut the door. Maureen spent the next two minutes listening to the blood rushing through her own ears.

The toilet flushed, and Bella stepped out. She shut the stall door, and leaned against it. Maureen lifted her head from the mirror, but she didn't turn around.

"They say the most interesting conversations occur in bathrooms." Maureen said. "I wouldn't know. I keep meeting uninteresting people."

The comment didn't seem to register with Bella. "You're at the sink. Do you actually wash your hands after using the toilet?"

"Not always." Maureen admitted. "Do you?"

"Not always." Bella countered. She met Maureen's eyes in the mirror. "I know more then 'jack shit' about Edward, you know. I'm learning all kinds of things about him today. And I want to learn about you, too."

"Even with my negative opinions?"

"I don't like not knowing things." Bella said.

"…I totally understand that. Go lock the door."

Bella looked confused. "Lock the door of a public bathroom?"

"A trick I learned from your sweet Edward's pretty sister Rosalie." Maureen said. "This is a private conversation. Except from Edward. And maybe Alice—godammit, you can't keep secrets from these fuckers at all!"

"Edward told me he doesn't like reading your mind." Bella said, moving towards the door. "He said it looks strange, and you think rude things."

"Glad to know I keep him out of my brain through sheer repulsiveness of character."

Bella finished locking the door, and walked back to Maureen. "But you_ are_ friends with Rosalie, then?"

"…'Friends' is a bit much." Maureen said sourly. "Rosalie and I hang out, shoot the shit, vent about whatever's pissing us off. But friends are people you love. People you trust. Rosalie's clever, and Jasper is sane…ish. But I wouldn't trust anyone in that family as far as I can sling a piano."

"I trust Edward." Bella said. "I trust him not to drink my blood."

"Here's a question." Maureen said. "If his vampirism really doesn't matter, shouldn't you skip the issue and instead confront the fact that he's a tremendous douche?"

Bella scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's not a douche. Are your kind of creature known for swearing a lot?"

"No, that's just me." Maureen said. "Spinner."

"You're a Spinner?"

"I _am _Spinner. It's my name." Maureen said. "But you, my hollow little girl, can call me Maureen."

Maureen had expected Bella to get mad, or object to being called 'little girl'. Instead, she shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry." Bella said.

"Sorry for what?" Maureen said. "For being a wooden doll?"

"No." Bella said. "I'm sorry you feel the need to insult me. To insult everyone. You're mad all the time. But it's because something's upset you, and you care about it. You wouldn't get so angry if you didn't care. It's like Edward. You're just putting up a wall, or a mask."

Maureen shut her eyes, and strained her ears. But there was no clicking, no buzzing in the back of her head. Forks wasn't influencing anything. Inasmuch as she had any agency, Bella's observation was entirely her own.

There was a long pause. Maureen turned around, and sat on the sink.

"There's no real name for what I am." Maureen said. "My kind live everywhere, because there are ideas everywhere. Things. Actions. We are the concepts of things. I am the idea of turning natural fibers into cloth. So I spin, and weave, and knit. Someone else might be the concept of 'ever-agreeing, and placating', or 'the care and collecting of cultivated food'. You'd say the first one was a yes-man, or a human placebo. You'd say the second was a farmer."

Bella frowned. "Did you get…turned into this?"

"I was born what I am. It's genetic."

"But Jessica—"

"Is my father's niece. My father is human. My mother wasn't. She came to Sacramento from a place called Underdark, with a group of our people. They left eventually. But she stayed, and married my father."

"She came from _where_?"

"My kind travels. We can go any place our concept exists. Forks isn't everything."

Bella laughed. "This place is growing on me, but I definitely agree with that."

"No, that's not what I meant. The world you know isn't the only world. There's a multiverse out there. A multi-multi-multiverse. Every place that can possibly be imagined, it exists somewhere."

Bella raised her eyebrows. "So…if I thought of, say, an underwater castle made from diamonds—"

"It already exists." Maureen said. "Before you thought of it. It's not real because you imagined it; you imagined it because it's real. Every dream, every thought, every story, every reality. There is nothing you or I can think that doesn't already exist. The only question is if it can be perceived."

"I'm calling them alternate dimensions to help you understand. But really, that's not the right word. It's more like…like alternate perspectives. There are people, out there. Places and things…you won't perceive them, or they won't perceive you. If they ever did, you wouldn't appear to be real to them…just an illustration, or a story, or a scrap of memory from a dream."

"You're real, Bella. And the Forks you know is real. But so are people and places that you can't begin to conceive as real."

"The nature of my kind involves…_interpreting_ these perspectives. Joining with them, being aware of them, and switching between them. I could go to a Forks that is wholly unlike this Forks, where all of the people are different, or where they believe and do different things. It's the same Forks, really…but the perspectives of its citizens, of the _town_, is completely alien. Forks' own perspective has shifted. Like the town itself has Disassociative Personality Disorder…many different minds, and none of them can perceive the others."

"My people frequently appear to be mad. When you get right down to it, insanity is really just having a different perspective from those around you. And when you can jump across points of view like hopping on stones across a pond…that's where true madness lies."

"Full-blooded 'concepts', the real deal…they're beyond insane. I've never seen one, but I've heard about them. They radiate perfection. They can bend a perspective to suit their needs exactly. They always win. They move in lockstep with the plan of…of wherever they came from. Whoever they came from. We don't know how we came to be, what place was our first home. Only that we were born from these impossibly perfect creatures."

That's why my kind are all half-breeds, to one degree or another. Just children lost in the darkness. We can't receive help or guidance from our insane, perfect forebears. So we make our own rules, our own motleys and gangs. We do as we will, and for the most part we get along fine. It's the lesser ones like me that have the most trouble. It's like you said. I'm upset because I care."

"See, when a person has more concept in them than anything else, amorality is like breathing. Everything is a trifle of a story, and the consequences don't matter. A certain, moral perspective would…_compel_ us to not go around tearing heads off of dogs or pulling fingernails off of kidnapped toddlers…at least in a place where it's considered an evil thing to do so. But that's only because it's more satisfying to play a board game according to the rules than it is to just throw the pieces around willy-nilly. Morality is effectively an arbitrary structure, and most of my kind don't see it as an obstacle. They simply don't care."

"Not so to those like me. We struggle with ethics, precisely because in spite of believing in them, we _know _how little they mean. We know full well that a serial child killer is an evil creature…in one perspective. But in another perspective, murdering children might be acceptable, or even praised. There is no abomination that is not also considered an act of love or righteousness, somewhere far away."

"This empathy is the most painful curse for our kind. By dint of being mostly human we involuntarily tap into the morality of a place, we empathize with its rules and the feelings of its inhabitants. But it conflicts with the moral code we developed as children, wherever we were born. And worse still, it _changes every place we go_. There is no comfort to be found, no ground to stand on, because we know all things are possible."

"True, we're more human than not. And we feel things like humans do. But humans can live by a code, a series of rules based on what they know to be right and wrong. What is right or wrong to us? Across an infinity of perspectives, the words have no fixed meaning that we can cling to. It's enough…well, enough to drive a person mad. And it sometimes does drive us almost-humans mad, in a very unpleasant way. Catatonia is one of the nicer outcomes."

"Compassion is a curse, and it burdens me heavily. If I had stayed with my father and stepmother, in their perspective, where suffering is the daily bread of billions and emotions run strong…I would have lost my wits. It felt as though I had already lost them. Tapping into that much suffering, without distraction…every day was like a never-ending hell. Knowing that others suffered even more than me through starvation, genocide and slavery only made my own torment worse."

"What could have distracted you?" Bella interrupted. "What could have helped?"

Maureen pressed her lips together for a moment. "My people. We tend to travel in gangs. Being with a group who understands the pain of a place the way you do, it works wonders. Talking, eating, exploring, _living_ together, all creates a happy diversion. But I didn't have that, in Sacramento. I was alone."

"That's why I came here, Bella. I told my Dad I didn't want to live in Sacramento anymore. Then I raised a fuss, kicked my heels and got expelled. So he sent me to Forks, to live with Jessica and her parents. Only when I took the cab from the airport, I didn't go to the Forks he thought he was sending me to. I took the cab to a different perspective of Forks. To your perspective."

"It's numb here, Bella. I can't feel as much. Everything is slipshod, like the whole world was put together by a distracted six-year-old. Only the six-year old was a genius, because this ramshackle perspective is amazingly sturdy. It doesn't seem inclined to come apart at all, no matter how much of it is contrived, or made up out of whole cloth."

"I'm at peace here. I tap into the morality of this world, but it has _surprisingly little_ to say about what is right or wrong. All it tells me is that, with a few exceptions, nothing matters. The theme of this world is shallowness, and its morality is apathy."

"I know I yell at Edward for being a douchebag, and mock the boys at school, and deride everyone, but that's the worst this world has. There's no slavery here, no world hunger. They're just words. And crime is practically an abstract concept, quite literally something you just 'hear on the news'. Those drunken would-be rapists in Port Angeles…they were evil, yes. But compared to the evil_ I've_ seen, in other places? They were practically harmless. And that's fucked up, Bella…it is _so_ fucked up that I can use the word 'harmless' to describe a rapist. But that's what this world is telling me. Those men only became truly dangerous to give Edward a reason to protect you."

Maureen's hands were clenched over her stomach, knotted into the fabric of her shirt.

"Do you understand? _Real suffering doesn't happen here_. All the pain in this world is unnecessary, and self-inflicted. And because there is no suffering, there's no guilt for me here. In other perspectives, I feel like there's something that needs fixing…that I have to fix it, no matter how awful it feels to go near it. Like volunteering at a women's shelter because you know it's the right thing to do, even if the sight of a child's face broken by her father's fists fills you with loathing and paralyzes you with misery. Even if you can't stand it, still you feel you must work to fix it, despite knowing it can never truly be healed."

"But there's nothing to fix here…to fix this place would be to destroy it. So there's no guilt, no aching self-hatred screaming at me to mend a world that can't be mended."

"I can do what I like here. I can eat hamburgers, and make linen from scratch, and maybe one day I'll buy my own house and open a fiber arts shop. I can watch you guys run around like headless chickens, or I can put my head down and try to ignore it. I can do the things that make me feel okay, and I don't have to think about anything else. I don't have to think at all."

Maureen took a deep breath. Her throat was raw. She felt empty.

Bella, for her part, looked shocked. But she tried to pull herself together.

"You said exceptions."

Maureen nodded. "Yeah. Like you. This place has very little to say…except when it concerns you. Then it has a _bunch _to say. You may well be the center here. Or Edward. Or both. It gets fuzzy on the details."

"The center?" Bella sounded skeptical. "How am I the center of anything? I'm not special."

"And that is precisely what Forks wants you to think. It prevents you from being stuck-up and dislikable."

Maureen tapped her forehead. "When I'm in a place, I get information from it. Forks tells me what is going on in this world. It tells me what it finds important."

Bella shook her head, as if to clear it. Like everyone else Maureen told, Bella was finding it difficult to make sense of things.

"So you're all alone." Bella finally said. "There's no one else like you here."

Maureen smiled, thin-lipped. "Yeah. It's just me."

"But what about your mother? What happened to her?"

Maureen ran a hand through her hair. "She left when I was nine. The place where we lived was getting to her, just like it would get to me. She lasted over a decade, because she's stronger than I am. But eventually it wore her down, and I couldn't help. So she went off, to visit other perspectives, to try and find a place that she could stomach. I would've gone with her, but I was too little. Lots of traveling can be damaging, if you're too young to comprehend shifting perspectives. I'd been having nosebleeds on earlier trips. Long-term traveling might have given me a full-blown aneurysm."

"So she _left _you?" Bella's brown eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Yeah...that's what I _said_." Maureen frowned in irritation. Bella really did have a habit of repeating things, like she needed confirmation.

"But how could she do that?" Bella asked. "How could she just leave you behind? What mother could abandon her child like that? That's so selfish!"

"What? No!" Maureen put her palms against her temples. "God dammit, no. Look, Bella, being selfish does not mean being bad. Every human being, animal, plant, _microscopic organism,_ even, is hard-wired to be self-centered. When the chips are down, we only think of our own survival. Logic, empathy and compassion help us understand that there are other people in the world; that we are not the only thing that can feel. So many societies vilify that selfish instinct, and glorify altruism. But you have to have both. You have to take care of yourself, before you can take care of others—"

"But she left you." Bella said, her voice catching. Her eyes looked wet—was she _crying_?

"She left you all alone, to go off and do what? Be _happy_? Why didn't she take you, instead of leaving you to be unhappy all by yourself?"

"She—if I went—might have died—" Maureen stammered. But Bella was weeping. Her nose didn't turn red, and her face wasn't distorted by ugly sobs. But tears were falling from her eyes, and she was crying.

"Oh, hell." Maureen said. She pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser, and crossed the distance, crushing them into Bella's hand.

"Wipe your eyes. Stop crying. It's okay." Maureen said, trying to think of something. _anything_ distracting she could say to get the girl to stop blubbering. Inspiration hit.

"I'm sure Edward's missing you." Maureen said, in her sweetest tone. "You should go back to the cafeteria."

It worked like a charm. Bella sniffled, and the tears slowed.

"I told him I wouldn't be long." Bella said thickly. She wiped her eyes with one of the crumpled paper towels. "I need to get back."

"Yes. Absolutely." Maureen said.

Bella shuffled to the bathroom door, scrubbing at her eyes. Dazed, she unlocked the door and slipped out. It closed behind her with a soft_ thump_.

Maureen was alone in the bathroom.

"…that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

Her voice echoed in the empty room.

Maureen put her head in her hands. "And I told her all of that. I wasted all those words on Bella. And she didn't even understand. So _stupid_…"

_Maybe I don't understand, either._

_SHUT. UP._

Maureen picked up her backpack, and went out into the hallway. She spent the rest of the period walking in circles.

* * *

"**There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy."**

** ~Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5**

A/N: I never got how Bella adjusted so well to moving to Forks. Yes, she whined and moped a lot, but as soon as Edward came along to distract her, she stopped missing her mother, her self-professed best friend. It was too easy.

Along the same lines, Maureen lost her mother, and her friends (no, you don't know how that happened yet). And finding herself alone and unable to cope with (our) reality, she ran away to a safe, apathetic haven. I know there are people out there who praise Twilight for distracting them from their troubles, because it's such a cozy little unrealistic fantasy. It distracts them from their pain.

**And to be perfectly clear-**

**The idea I have presented with this 'multiverse' is that everything imaginable is real in some capacity. So all the books we read are true. All the movies are true. Even the fanfiction stories we write are true. A fanfic composed of three paragraphs and written in netspeak would be a tiny, broken universe inhabited by a few deformed creatures who babble intelligibly...but it would still be a universe.**

**And Mary Sues, to my understanding, **_**are **_**concepts. They are ideas, usually an idea you can explain in one sentence. They are the concept of 'what if Edward Cullen fell in love with a girl who played the violin?' or 'what if Harry Potter met a girl who was part fox?'. This kind of Mary Sue, the kind we are all familiar with, is what Maureen is descended from. Her species are based more on ideas of culture and environment then on ideas of teenage perfection and romance. But the basic principle is the same. **

**IF YOU HAVE ANY OPINIONS OR QUESTIONS about the stuff I've just thrown at you, NOW is the time to comment. I want to hear all about how this idea of mine comes across. :D**


	17. Enlighten Me

No excuse, except that I lost track of the days. Sorry, sorry. : (

**desert 101** – I'm happy to hear my story is fudgin amazeballs! Your enthusiasm is much appreciated.

**Lil artist** – No problem, we all have personal stuff, and it takes precedence. The idea is that Bella got so upset hearing about Maureen's mother because Bella misses her own mother, and is repressing any resentment she has against Renee. But when faced with a similar situation, she let it out a little. Glad the story is a help, and thanks for sticking around so long. : )

**xXKazaneXx** – You've got it exactly right, with what Maureen does. Like how you get the feel of the environment when you read a book, or know lots of things because of a third-person narrative. Maureen's people are capable of vague omniscience, like a reader or a movie viewer. And I guess it is Chronic Hero Syndrome, a bit. I was trying to convey uber-empathy. Some people feel really bad at the misfortunes of others, but they can't stand being that close to suffering, so helping to fix it is hard. It's definitely a cowardly trait. Maureen ran away from her problems, instead of facing them. And no need to shut up. I like your commentary. Hopefully all your questions will be answered in the fullness of time.

* * *

Enlighten Me

After Jessica drove them home from school, Maureen went to the garage. It took her a bit of searching, but eventually she dug out the box of linen dressing tools she'd made the Autumn before last. If she was going to be ready to rett and break the plants after they were picked and soaked, her tools ought to be clean.

It was foggy outside, but the temperature wasn't uncomfortable. Bundled up in two sweaters, Maureen sat in the backyard against a tree, with a cushion from the basement couch under her butt. Using oil, a soft cloth, and some steel wool, she polished and cleaned the tools, moving the wool in small circles, or slipping the cloth into tight corners

"I need to talk to you." Edward Cullen said.

Maureen lost her grip on the heckling comb, but fumbled and caught it before the spikes smashed into her thigh. She looked up at the vampire standing over her.

"Do you have to sneak up on people like that?" Maureen said. "Why couldn't you knock on my front door?"

"I came from the woods. You were closer than your front door."

"What, you ran here?"

"Yes."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Didn't want to park your shiny Volvo outside my house. Fine. Whatever. How's the Port Angeles rapist? I hope you went back and crucified him. Unless you don't give a shit, now that Bella and our friends are safe."

Edward grimaced. "As a matter of fact, Carlisle fixed the problem. The man is in jail now."

Maureen crouched, dropping the heckling comb gently on a piece of clean canvas. She wiped her oily hands on the edge of the cloth, and stood up.

"That's good to know." She said, genuinely pleased. "Now, get off my property."

"It's not your property."

"It's my family's property, and you're trespassing. I don't want you here. Go away."

"Not until I say what I came to say." Edward crossed his arms.

"There's a clear view into the backyard. I bet Jessica would _love _to find out you're back here."

"You Uncle is at work, your Aunt is on the telephone, and your cousin is listening to music in her room." Edward said. "If anyone is about to look out a window, I'll know."

"You're a creeper, you know that?" Maureen said.

"And you're a harpy." Edward said. "I want you to stop upsetting Bella. Stop insulting her."

Maureen laughed. "Is that what you came here to say? Really?"

Edward's face was expressionless, serious as stone.

"Ugh." Maureen put a hand to her forehead. "Look, I didn't try to make your girlfriend cry. That was all on her. As for the insults, I'm allowed to express myself. I don't say anything about Bella that isn't true."

"You _lie_. You say terrible, untrue things, because your heart is so black and twisted you can't accept the simple reality: Bella is_ good_."

"She's not _good_." Maureen said. "Nobody's just _good_. You just can't tell because you can't read her thoughts."

"Stop trying to turn me against her!"

"I'm not…this is stupid." Maureen said. "I don't hate Bella, not really. What pisses me off is the way you put her on a pedestal. _People _are good, not just Bella."

Edward snorted. "You haven't read the minds of every single student at our school. I can count on _one hand_ the children who don't have evil thoughts at least once day."

"Faulty or immature isn't evil." Maureen said. "Even Lauren; she's harmless and full of hot air. Evil is a word for that rapist. For genocide. For parents who strangle their children. Don't you_ dare_ use it so lightly!"

Maureen's teeth chattered on the last sentence. She wrapped her arms over her chest.

"We feel the same about humanity, Edward. Did you know that?" Maureen said. "I hate comparing myself to you, but it's true. The difference is, I know I'm wrong. I know my opinions are subjective, and biased. But you think you're always right."

"I am not always right." Edward said mournfully. "I am a flawed, imperfect being. Sometimes I think high school is an appropriate punishment for me, being damned as I am."

"You're not damned. You're just a prick." Maureen said. "And high school is like candyland for you"

"What?"

"You claim to hate high school." Maureen explained. "But it's your element. It's a closed-off environment where adolescents are stuck with nothing to do but think in circles. You play people like strings, you reel in drama where it concerns you. You're perfect at it."

Edward was clearly upset. He relaxed his shoulders and adopted a thoughtful expression, steepling his fingers.

"Obviously you've misinterpreted the situation. So let me explain this to you as clearly as I can." He said.

"Everything I do at school, every move I make, is a lie. All that I really am must be hidden from mortal eyes. Even Bella, who knows my secret, must never be privy to the darker side of my nature. So I must _needs _manipulate, and behave deceitfully, in order to function. Surely you understand the nature of keeping secrets about yourself."

"I can keep secrets without acting like a patronizing douchebag to the people I care about." Maureen said. "The way you talk to Bella is revolting. And that's not even counting all the miscommunication that happens between you, which you do _nothing_ to fix or work out."

"We have miscommunications because we are both very private people." Edward said calmly. "And it is difficult for me to understand her, because I can't read her thoughts."

"Oh no, poor _you_. That only leaves you with a dictionary's worth of words and body language." Maureen rolled her eyes. "How do you stand it, then, if you can't read her mind?"

Edward smiled grimly in response. "I persevere. I look at her through other people's eyes, see her in their thoughts."

Maureen glared at him. "Through _my_ eyes?"

Edward laughed. It was a short sound, and full of contempt. "Hardly. I had to, for that little conversation in the bathroom. But it was detestable. Your ignorant eyes are the worst to see her though. You think she's empty, only worthy of indifference and pity. But she's the exact opposite. She's full of life, full of beauty."

Edward shook his head. "I can understand Mike's adolescent fantasies, or even Jessica's petty jealousy. But you're not an ordinary human. You know things no one else knows. You ought to understand, ought to think better of her."

Maureen put her hands on her hips. "Well, it's hard to think better of her when she's dating_ you_. And if she's not empty, what the hell is she full of? Go on, I won't even make a meatsack joke. What does she know about?"

"Human kindness and charity, for a start." Edward said pointedly. "And she reads classic literature, listens to excellent music. How could you speak ill of a person who knows Bronte and Debussy?"

"De-who?" Maureen said.

Edward smirked. "Philistine."

"Philistine my ass!" Maureen shrieked. "Do _you_ know how to weave a Persian Rug? Do you have the first idea what couching is? Fuck you, Edward! You don't know everything. And no matter how many books you read or college degrees you earn, you will always be an ignorant fucking asshole, because that's just how you are. You're an unrepentant chauvinist, and if love can change a vampire, your love for Bella sure as hell hasn't changed _that _part of you. You treat her like a pet, or a delicate china doll. She's a person, for God's sake!"

_Though that's debatable, given her personality._ Maureen crushed the thought down, but it was too late. Edward drew his lips back from his teeth.

"Slander me all you want." He hissed. "But don't you dare say anything against Bella."

"I didn't _say_ anything." Maureen laughed. "I thought it. You're the one who invaded my head. Good grief."

She raised her hands. "I'm done with you. I'm done with this ridiculous song-and-dance you two lovebirds are going through. The next time your sister comes to me with more gossip about how you've broken into Bella's bedroom to stare at her while she sleeps, or how you and Bella keep fucking each other with your eyes, I'm going to tell Rosalie to stuff it."

The next thing Maureen knew, she was flat on her back. Edward was crouching over her, gripping her wrists painfully tight.

"Shut up!" He hissed. "Don't say another disgusting word! I told you!"

Maureen took a deep breath. Her shoulder blades were smarting.

"Are you going to bite me, Edward?" She asked, trying to keep her voice level. "Are you going to drain me dry, then run home to cry over your lost principles?"

Edward's furious expression drained away to a look of sheer horror. Slowly, he released his grip on Maureen's arms. He moved back, resting on his haunches. Maureen sat up, rubbing her wrists.

"And here I thought Bella would be the one to ruin me." Edward smiled bitterly. "With her beautiful heart, and beautiful scent. But I'm in just as much danger of ruination from _you_. From something ugly, and twisted."

"Of course. "Maureen said. "It would be _my_ fault. Or hers. The fall of Man through Woman, right? It's not _your_ fault. You were seduced. Poor innocent Adam, drawn into damnation by Eve. Or by Lilith."

Maureen ran a hand through her hair. "I dislike feminism, Edward. There's too many rabid extremists, and I'd rather support _people's_ rights than women's rights. But damned if your attitude doesn't make me want to burn my bra and sew Womyn Power quilts."

Edward laughed, throwing back his head. Maureen smiled despite herself.

"Yeah yeah, it's funny." She climbed to her feet. "You know, every time I mention Christian mythos, Forks makes encouraging noises. But the concept of 'female empowerment' is practically nonexistent here. Forks has trouble understanding the term."

"I am a great supporter of Women's Rights." Edward said, standing up. "I marched to give you the vote."

"And yet Bella gets no dignity or respect from you." Maureen said. "Not really. All she gets is affection, and patronizing remarks about how she's such a sweet little kitten, and her anger is so cute because she's so _physically weak_. That's not real love, Edward. That's not how real relationships work. You've read Ibsen's A Doll's House, right?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with this situation." Edward said.

"Then I doubt you ever will." Maureen folded her arms. "Thanks for not killing me. I appreciate it. Now get the fuck off my Aunt and Uncle's property, and don't you ever, EVER come back here unless invited. The town of Forks might be your Peepshow Playground, but the Stanley residence is off fucking limits."

Edward made a pained, constipated face. But he nodded, and took off into the woods. In less than two seconds, he was gone.

Maureen gathered up the oil and tools. She'd finish cleaning them some other day. Right now, the idea of sitting outside with her back to the forest was unpleasant. She put everything back in the garage, and returned the slightly muddy couch cushion to its home in the basement. She washed her oily hands, then took a long shower upstairs.

"I am getting tired of this." Maureen said; voice muffled by the roar of the showerhead. "Really tired. It's been two months since she showed up, and the world has gone completely upside-down. Forks is supposed to be numb. I want some real answers."

After her shower, Maureen pulled on a cotton undershirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. She sat at her loom—the pinstripe pattern she'd been weaving on and off for a month was almost finished.

She'd asked Forks for information in the recent past; and it had always overwhelmed her. But she hadn't asked for the root of the problem. She asked about the how, and the what. But not the why.

Maureen picked up the shuttle.

"I'm here to ask you a question." She pulled the treadles, lifted the selvage strings, slipped the shuttle back and forth across the frame of the loom.

"All I have to offer is a sad, puzzled heart, and these last few inches of cloth most dear. But I tell you, I beg you. There's method to this madness, for sure, for sure. Unsnarl it for me, unspell it. I would know. I fought, and I cursed, but let me see. Let me know."

Maureen kept weaving as she spoke, staring forward into nothing. She could feel with her fingers when she'd hit the end of the warp, when there was no more thread to unwind.

Maureen placed the shuttle beside the loom, and looked down.

The last ten inches of cloth didn't follow the pattern. They were a tangled mess. Maureen fell into it, eyes over eyes.

_Are happy to see me happy black-topped lab table then why does it matter nothing more fun had a lot of homework I looked into his eyes something is missing the wind was gentle six primordial cedars his expression was skeptical a perfect cloudless blue white as a ghost scrambled awkwardly to my feet rustling the papers smiled under his fingertips we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood bounced forward still radiant deliberately parked WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING fed myself for seventeen years oh my oh my can you walk couldn't concentrate on him careful not to touch jeans and navy blue sweater my bag please hold your breath hitting trees and getting sick I'd already read everything some kind of demon to mEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…_

Past the tangle of string through the tangle of words, Maureen fell without moving. It was chaos, ugly chaos, full of colors mostly green and honey-gold and crimson and white, but also blue and gray and russet red. And amidst and around it, between the cracks, was an ever-present numbness. The colorless apathy of Forks, its lack of concern towards everything it made. Almost everything.

_This place is numb. I was right when I first saw it. It never stopped being numb, even when it was happy and building._

_Bella__** is**__ numb and apathetic. So is Edward. It's all a puppet show, with people jerking around on strings, going through the motions. The only way to achieve anything organic is if Forks leaves you alone, and doesn't push you into contrived situations. _

That was the truth. But apathy was not the goal. _Love _was the goal. True love, that endured separation and fear and jealousy, that was the center. All other things were dust and shadow.

"What?" Maureen cried. She jerked away from the loom, fell up and away. She slipped off the stool, landing hard on the floor of her room.

But the vision didn't stop. It kept building and building behind her eyes, promising paradise and happiness unmatched. Everything melted into ash, except for the vampire boy and the girl in his arms.

"That's not even…what, this whole world means nothing?" Maureen asked. "It's only them? Them, and their contrived attraction to each other?"

_Not just attraction, but true love._ Sang Forks. _True love, forever and ever. Until the end of time._

"The end of time is an infinity away." Maureen choked. "Things live and die. Stones crumble. Seas evaporate. Planets explode. Nothing can ever stay the same."

_This shall._

_

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_

A/N Writing scenes where Edward and Maureen talk to each other is like mixing volatile chemicals. There's always lots of anger and baiting. But when they argue there's more genuine emotion expressed between them than Edward ever expresses with Bella. Having two people who genuinely dislike each other creates interesting conversation. Having two soul mates who can only stare at each other and mumble affectionately makes for poor character growth.

The story's getting closer to the end, but we've still got more intrigue left. Read & Review, please!


	18. Carnivorous Jerks

**Amarth Obstreperous, thanks so much for taking the time to review. Funny you should mention conflict, just now. :)**

**This is a chapter I greatly enjoyed writing. Hope you all like it too.**

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Carnivorous Jerks

Maureen gave it up. Forks was completely insane. And whatever sick, chauvinistic bee had crawled up Edward's ass and died, her getting mad about it was a waste of time.

It was beyond her power to fix. She'd tried to explain it to Edward, to Rosalie. The latter had understood some of it, but only in regards to her own narcissism. And Edward had refused to listen at all.

Part of it was his immense capacity for denial. But Maureen knew Forks was also suppressing her. In the last two months, she'd felt herself become less significant in the big scheme of things. It wasn't really a problem for Maureen, given that the last place she wanted to be was in the spotlight. But it made her opinions less….audible.

She could try and vent her thoughts to Jessica, or Mike, or even Lauren. But they'd tune her out, or reflexively not want to hear about it. They could only pick it up on their own. Which they always had, in a way:_ Cullen's a freak, they give me chills, he looks at Bella like she's something to eat. _They got the vampiric undertone.

But they didn't understand the obvious. Beneath Bella's unreadable thoughts, beneath Edward's vampirism, they were just a boy and a girl. Strip the myth and magic away, and there was nothing to disguise what they were: An awkward high-schooler, and a co-dependent stalker. Generic girl, and dangerous weirdo.

It was sick. It was stupid. But Maureen could have shouted it at the top of her lungs, for all the good it would do. No one would listen, or even care to change. So she opted for the path of least resistance.

_Like I should have done, all along. Damn me._

Maureen put it behind her. Everyone made mistakes. She was mostly human. The task at hand was to make amends with herself, and move forward.

She finished the second stocking that night, and posted a photo of the pair on her website. Going back to the loom, she detached the fabric she'd woven and cut the tangled portion off the bottom. Then she drafted a pattern for a fitted vest, medium size. She carefully cut the cloth out the next morning, and serged the edges to keep the fabric from unraveling.

She spent her school hours crocheting stuffed animals, something she hadn't done in ages. The pattern was for a caterpillar, with a body composed of six small spheres. She filled it with bits of cloth she'd saved, the excess of various sewing projects snipped into scraps of stuffing. She'd overestimated how much scrap cloth and yarn she needed, though. There was plenty left after the first caterpillar. So Maureen made another, and then another, before school was over.

She ignored the people around her, and for the first time in weeks and weeks, it worked. Edward and Bella didn't matter. Rosalie and her vanity didn't matter. Jasper and his pain didn't matter. Jess' gabbing, Angela's shyness, Lauren's bitchiness, Mike's jealously. Shuffled away.

Maureen cared. She couldn't stop caring. But the key to avoiding madness was being able to push it all aside, from time to time. To find peace.

_I guess I needed to hash it out with Forks._ Maureen thought. _Or just get used to things, over time. But everything's fine now. I feel good._

Home again, Maureen pinned the vest pieces, and stitched then together on her sewing machine. She used rough, undyed silk for the lining, and hand stitched the outside to the inside as carefully as she could. Aside from dinner, and Jess asking to compare her math worksheet to Maureen's, there were no interruptions.

Friday was more of the same. Maureen spent her morning carefully stitching buttons and buttonholes onto the vest. She finished the last buttonhole before lunch, and slit all four of them open with a seam ripper. The rest of the day was devoted to paying attention in class, catching up.

Saturday was sunny, and absolutely gorgeous. The previous days of broken cloud cover paled in comparison. Uncle Thomas cooked a big breakfast, with pancakes, bacon and hash browns. While Jessica did the dishes, Maureen made a couple of sandwiches with lettuce and tomatoes and slices of salami. She packed them her foraging bag, along with a bottle of water and all of her usual outdoor tools.

"Oh, you are _not _going into the woods!" Jessica said.

"Got it in one."

"No Maureen, come on! The Spring Dance is tonight. Spend the day getting ready, with me."

"My hair will take ten seconds." Maureen said. "I know what dress I'm wearing, what shoes I need. I'm all prepared."

"I thought it was too early in the year to go plant-hunting, or whatever."

"I'm not foraging. I'm going to work on the cowl pattern I got in Port Angeles. I want to sit outside, and work."

"You can work in the backyard!"

"I don't want to." Maureen realized the foolishness in trusting the deeper woods over her own backyard, but the memory of Edward popping out of nowhere and knocking her down when she made him mad was still bugging her a little. She'd never relax if she stayed in the yard.

I'll be back with plenty of time to get ready for the dance." Maureen assured Jessica. "You won't be late. I'm not going_ that _far into the woods."

Jessica made a last ditch effort to protest. "I thought the woods were too dirty for knitting. Didn't you say that once?"

"Don't care." Maureen said. "Not today. Today, I enjoy the outdoors."

"If you're not back and ready by five, I'm not waiting for you." Jessica said sourly.

"It's a deal."

Maureen put on her boots and coat, and walked off into the woods. It was a much warmer day then yesterday, there were even some early birds chirping in the trees. The sunlight made the greens and browns of the forest light up. Maureen walked for almost an hour, in a twisted, convoluted path. She'd learned the lay of the land last summer; and she was less than half a mile from her house.

By and by, she came across a patch of nettle shoots peeking out of the ground.

"Still too small." Maureen said. "But this is as good a place as any."

Maureen ate her sandwiches, sitting on a low, flat stone. When she was done she pulled out her needles, a large ball of blue yarn, and the cowl pattern. Maureen cast on, and tucked the ball back into her bag, so it wouldn't roll onto the ground as she drew out more yarn. She fell into the rhythm of knitting, the fuzzy wool twisting pleasantly around her fingers.

_Until it's time to go, of nothing else do I care._ Maureen thought, mindful of her promise to Jessica.

On the heels of that, almost idly: _The birds have stopped making noise._

Maureen paused. The forest had gone oddly silent. She stood up, fingers frozen on the needles.

There was a loud, _whoosh_, then another and another. The trees rustled loudly.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

Maureen turned, dropping the cowl on the ground.

Three people were sitting in a tree, perched on branches high off the ground. They were all adults, although you wouldn't have known that from their clothes. They looked like they'd raided a dress-up toybox. One was blond, wearing worn jeans and a jacket with no shirt. Another was a black man, with dreadlocks and the ugliest salmon-colored coat Maureen had ever seen. The third was the only female. She had long red tresses, and a white furry cape hooked over one shoulder.

"Did we catch you at a bad time?" The redhead smiled. "You came into the woods to be alone, I bet. Have the boys and girls at school been _teasing _you?"

"Um, what?" Maureen made a confused face. "I don't—"

Maureen's eyes widened. Where patches of sunlight broke through the trees and hit the three, their skin was bubbling.

No, not bubbling. _Sparkling._

_Oh, CRAP._

"We _must_ have caught you at a bad time." The blond man said. "Why else would you look so bewildered?"

The redhead stretched out along the branch she was sitting on, her back arching. "Like a lost little mouse, or a calf who's lost the herd." She said, _tsk-tsking _softly.

_Are they…are they trying to verbally _bait_ me?_ Maureen was flabbergasted. _What the hell is this shit?_

"You'd think she never saw anyone sitting in a tree, before." The dreadlocked vampire said. "This forest isn't just for you, you know."

"Fuck this noise." Maureen said out loud.

The blond vampire raised his eyebrows. "What noise?" He asked. "I don't think you can hear any noise, not with those puny ears of yours."

"And likewise, no one will hear you scream." The redheaded woman said, pulling herself up into a crouch on the branch.

Maureen raised her hands and clapped them together—two, three four times.

"A slow clap, Ma'am." Maureen said dryly. "For your brilliant theatrics. Oh, oh, I am dazzled. I am truly horrified."

The redhead grinned. "You don't understand yet, do you?"

"I understand that I was _busy_, and then some _vampires _came out of nowhere and started trying to intimidate me with the same kind of dumb-ass posturing you see in Japanese anime." Maureen snapped.

It occurred to Maureen a second later that perhaps, since she was pretty sure these vampires were not pussy vegetarians, she shouldn't have insulted them.

Luckily none of the vampires seemed inclined to leap on her en masse, and rip her to a bloody pulp. In fact, all three vampires were glancing at each other. They looked very surprised.

"Well now, this is peculiar!" The blond vampire said. He dropped out of the tree, and sauntered casually towards Maureen. "You know what we are."

Maureen shrugged. "I've met your sort before. This town has vampires."

"I told you there were others here." The dreadlocked vampire said. "We're on someone else's territory. I smelled traces—"

"They don't come here often." The blond said. His red eyes never left Maureen. "Or the smell would be stronger. If we come across them, we'll make our excuses."

"Easier to beg forgiveness then request permission." The red-haired girl said primly.

The blond vampire leaned in close to Maureen. She made a face, unable to help herself.

"Eucchh! You smell like dried blood."

The blond vampire smiled. His canines were incredibly sharp.

_Oh, I really need to shut up right about now._ Maureen thought, trying to fight down a wave of fear. There was a peal of laughter from up in the tree.

"She's right, James." The redheaded girl said. "You forgot to wash behind your ears. I can see the fingerprints from when that last cow scrabbled at your head."

"I'll remedy the situation once I find a bar of soap." James snarled. But he didn't seem angry. More like curious.

He peered at Maureen. "I may smell like dried blood, but you smell like skunk cabbage." He said. "I've never smelt a human so sour. What are you?"

"I'm _not _human." Maureen said, lifting her chin. "My blood smells awful, it'd taste worse. I'm not worth your while."

James laughed. "Silly little girl. You may know my kind, but you don't know me. You think I hunt for blood?"

…_yes?_ Maureen wasn't sure how to answer that question. It sounded rhetorical. She waited to see if James would continue without a reply from her.

As self-absorbed as Edward, he did. "I drink blood." James said. "But that's not why I do what I do. I hunt for the _hunt_, little girl. I hunt to scent my prey, to seek it out, to chase it…to _toy_ with it." James leaned in, and blew a puff of air on Maureen's cheek. She flinched.

"Please don't do that." Maureen said, trying to control the tremor in her voice. "You're invading my personal bubble. And I'm not going to run just so you can get your jollies by hunting me."

James laughed, grinning his huge shark-grin. "Oh, I think I can convince you."

In response, Maureen sat down. Her butt landed on the loam and leaves with a soft _thud_. She crossed her legs Indian-style, hands resting on her knees.

"James." The other male vampire said. "This is getting boring."

James frowned. He made as if to turn…then kicked his foot out, striking Maureen in the side. It was a casual hit, but it sent Maureen flying. For a moment there was nothing but air rushing past her, then her side slammed into a tree. She collapsed on the roots, wrapping an arm around her throbbing torso, trying to get her breath back.

"Still boring?" James asked his companion.

"Yes, actually."

_Cracked rib? That might be a cracked rib._ Maureen thought hysterically. Her mind was running a mile a minute. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But that would make it a game.

_If there's nothing to see, people stop looking. If there's nothing to look for, people stop playing._

"I appreciate your modus operandi monologue." Maureen coughed. "But I'm not going to play cat-and-mouse, no matter how many bones you break or organs you slice. I promise, I am in no way fun for you. Sorry, but that's how it is. Go find somebody else to drain…preferably a child molester. They'd deserve it."

James pursed his lips. He circled around Maureen. She willed herself to not look at him, focusing on the trunk of another tree across the clearing.

"Don't think you're going to win this." He said.

"James, please." The dreadlocked vampire said. "There are a dozen other things we could be do—"

James seized Maureen under the armpits and hauled her to her feet so sharply that she stumbled. He caught her around the upper arms, his grip like a vise. Maureen literally could not move.

"You're not human." He hissed into her ear, his foul breath making her skin crawl. "But you feel oh-so-fragile to me. I'm curious, I'm oh-so-curious. What happens if I do this?"

The movement of his head was too quick for Maureen to follow. But she felt the result. It was nothing like the clean, slicing cut of a kitchen knife. The edge of her neck was punctured with a jagged, mauling bite. She _felt _her skin tear, as he dragged his teeth through her flesh.

Maureen let out a howling scream. James released her, and she hit the ground like a sack of bricks, tears swimming in her eyes. James circled around in front of her again, wiping blood off his mouth.

"What's wrong?" The red-haired woman sounded shocked.

James' face was twisted into a nasty grimace.

"_Pfeh_!" He spit. "She wasn't lying about the taste. This may be the first meal I've ever _wanted_ to stop eating. Congratulations!"

Maureen slammed her forehead against the ground, shoulder blades pressing against each other as she writhed.

"If you survive the transformation, do look me up." James' voice rang out "I'd love to know what happens to you."

A gust of air shot past Maureen. Gasping, she jerked her head up. All three vampires were gone.

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Hm. I don't think I've ever put in a real cliffhanger before.

As always, reviews are appreciated. The more people review, the quicker I'm inclined to update.


	19. Stitch By Stitch

Thanks for the reviews, you guys. *grins* I seem to have knocked everyone out of the ballpark.

I won't keep you waiting any longer than I have. Let's finish this.

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Stitch By Stitch

Maureen had laughed at the idea of vampire venom. It was less funny now that it was burning her flesh. It did make her doubly pissed off, though. Vampire venom? What a fucking joke!

A very painful joke.

"Maureen, calm down!" She blurted out.

_Yes, because putting this damn perspective__** into**__ perspective has worked so well before._

_Shut up! I'll do what I have to do to get through this._

She took a deep breath.

"W-whatever pain is here." Maureen choked, hysteria edging her voice. "It's nothing. It's a trifle. A first-degree burn, a dozen bee stings, getting a large tattoo—ohgodohgdoithurts! Fuck! Ahhhhh, no, it's nothing it's nothing it's nothing—"

The aching pain in her ribs had faded, but this burning would not. Maureen felt perspiration bursting across her brow. Mind over matter only worked so far. However insignificant she wanted it to be, she _was_ in pain, and it couldn't be completely ignored.

"And m-more than p-p-pain." She stuttered. "The v-v-enom's a law of th-this p-place."

James' query had been entirely valid. What happened to a person like her, when they were infected by a vampire? Maureen doubted she'd become one.

"Heheh…I'd rather die than that." Maureen giggled through the haze of pain. "Be sparkly forever! God, never."

The other possibility was that it was just going to kill her. Maureen had a feeling that would be the case.

_Do I want to die?_

"Not while I'm too chicken shit to let myself die." Maureen spat. "And not while I can still hope to live my life in this numbness."

Which ruled out the idea of going to a different place, in order to kill the poison. While Maureen was half certain that doing so would neutralize the venom (no other place would stand for such a stupid thing as vampire venom as part of its rules) she wasn't sure she could get back to Forks afterwards. It had been a far-fetched idea to try and get here all on her own, and that she'd succeeded had been a fucking miracle.

_So I can't leave to neutralize the poison, and it's likely to kill me if I don't get it out. What options does that leave?_

"Carlisle?"

Her mind countered the spoken entreaty. _It's sunny out, you moron. He'd be skulking in his house in the woods. You don't have the damn address! And for all you know, the lot of them are five hundred miles away from here, hunting fucking _moose_._

_Perhaps I should have asked Rosalie for her cell phone number. _This brought on another nervous giggle, cut short by a groan of pain. The burning was fast getting unbearable.

_If I call Bella, she might have Edward's number…?_

'Enough!" Maureen spat. " E-enough, I do not need their help! I will g-get myself out of th-this alone."

How?

The answer, as usual, was in the thread.

Maureen crawled on her hands and knees across the loamy ground. The cowl lay on top of her backpack, where she had dropped it. Forcing her spasming fingers to obey, she pushed what knitting she'd done off the needles, and unraveled the piece. Now there was nothing but a pile of kinked blue yarn, and two bare 6mm needles.

Maureen closed her eyes, and spoke out loud. "Needles of a m-medium width, to make the stitching close, but g-give me sp-speed in my work. Blue yarn for healing, for b-blood running pure within the veins, untouched by air or p-poison."

The pain in her neck was still fierce. But now that she had a goal, she felt more focused. It was like a new craft project, blocking out all other distractions.

Maureen positioned the needles, and began to cast on. Fifteen stitches—a thin width would work fine, if it were long enough. The pattern would be stockinette, simple and quick.

Maureen knelt on the forest floor, head bowed, hands moving. She knit with careful speed, making sure not to screw up in fear or haste.

_Poison in the body, in the blood, purged and brought forth, drawn from the blood and the body, destroyed without trace, the blood wiped clean, free of venom free of fire free of sickness. Take the gouged holes in my flesh and the venom crusting around them, remove that which has taken full advantage of my body, and seeks my end with all malice. Purge this poison, vent it forth, end its reign upon my simple frame._

And other such rambling, to impress the need for the yarn to do its job. Though Maureen preferred to use her power sparingly, here she used it liberally. It was, she suspected, a matter of life and death. Forcing her stiff limbs to stretch, Maureen climbed to her feet and awkwardly slung her backpack over her good shoulder. She walked on unsteady legs back towards her house, still knitting.

The scarf was done by the time she cleared the tree line. Maureen cast off with a final silent plea, and bit the yarn to break off the excess. The needles and unused wool went into her backpack, the scarf she wrapped snugly around her neck—better to hide the ugly bite and crusted blood.

While the light touch of her fingers sent the pain of Maureen's wound to fresh heights, the wool itself felt soothing—a good sign, though the pain did not dissipate.

_I don't mind agony, so long as it works._ Maureen thought.

She walked through the Stanley's backyard and into the house in a daze. She used the side door, hoping nobody would be in the kitchen. But Uncle Thomas was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. He noticed almost immediately.

"Maureen, what's wrong?" He asked, voice full of concern

_Bless his kindness in this numb place, where it is so easy to be petty and cruel._ Maureen thought, in spite of her annoyance at his observation.

Out loud, she said. "D—don't worry. I'm fine."

"Kiddo, you look sick. You're white as a sheet." Her Uncle said. He raised a hand towards her forehead.

Maureen took a step back, and put her own hand to her forehead. It was slick with sweat, and ice cold to the touch. Which probably meant she was actually burning up. _Crap. _

"I'm fine, Uncle Thomas." She said, trying to be firm despite the agony searing through her veins. She couldn't risk him seeing the bite. She just had to trust that the scarf would do its job.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I think it's j-just a stomach ache. Too many pancakes this morning." Maureen smiled weakly, hoping she didn't sound as full of shit as she thought she did.

Uncle Thomas looked doubtful. But he let it go. "You should go upstairs, drink some water. Maybe lie down."

"Sounds good." Maureen agreed.

She made her way out of the kitchen, down the hallway. She could hear Aunt Joan watching TV in the living room.

Halfway up the stairs, Maureen felt it. She started running, scrambling up the steps. The bathroom was ten feet down the hall. Maureen barely made it two.

"Huuuuuuuurrrrgh!" Maureen stumbled and fell on her hands and knees as her gut and esophagus heaved. Her lunch—and what looked like the remains of her breakfast—spewed out in a disgusting flood. It took over ten seconds for her throat to stop heaving, and by that time she was gasping for air. Maureen made it to the bathroom before the next wave, which was even worse than the first. It didn't even resemble food this time, just green and white mush. It smelled horrible, and burned her throat coming up.

Perhaps she shouldn't have used the word 'purge' so much in her knitting. But she couldn't feel the burning of the venom anymore—most likely this painful vomiting was eclipsing it. Maureen hastily flushed the toilet.

A door slammed; someone was moving quickly down the hall.

_Shit. I should have locked myself in._ Maureen thought, before another wave of puking hit her.

"Maureen!" Jessica gaped from the doorway. "What the hell is going on?"

Maureen coughed and spat, took a shuddering breath. "M' throwing up, obviously."

Jessica knelt by her cousin, grabbing Maureen's shoulder. "Your skin is on fire….ugh, that stench _reeks_!"

"Leave me 'lone…" Was all Maureen got out before she threw up again.

"MOM!" Jessica screamed, her voice urgent with terror. "Mom, help!"

"Jessie?" Footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Maureen's sick!" Jessica cried, pulling the bathroom door farther open with her free hand.

"Honey, what's going on?" Aunt Joan nudged Jessica aside. "Did you eat something bad?"

_Honey, kiddo…you guys always sound like my parents when you're worried. _

"It doesn't smell like alcohol…oh my God, Maureen, that's _bile_. We need to get you to a hospital."

"Nnno!" Maureen said. "No hospital."

"You're vomiting your guts up!" Jessica protested. "You're really sick."

"I don't care if it's drugs, Maureen." Aunt Joan said. "We have to—"

Maureen hurled again, nearly choking on it. Forget dehydration, this barfing was going to suffocate her if she didn't get enough time in between to breathe.

"Tom! Tom, get up here!" Her Aunt yelled. "Jessica, go call 911!"

_This is not going the way I planned it._ Was the last thought Maureen had before a violent spasm of puking caused her to smack her head against the toilet lid.

Everything went very fuzzy after that, and all Maureen was aware of was lots of shouting, and her inability to stop throwing up. Much to her relief, she finally lost consciousness.

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_A/N I wanted Maureen to encounter James, Laurent and Victoria, so she could develop an opinion about non-vegetarian vampires. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think of a sound scenario where they would meet Maureen and not attack her in some way. To me, it wasn't in James' nature to encounter something strange and leave it in peace. Eventually I gave up, and let him bite her. _

Read & Review!


	20. We Live To Die Another Day

Catnip Banana, thanks so much for reviewing. I know at least a handful of people are reading this anonymously, but I'm always thrilled when you have time to leave a comment. I'm happy Maureen has grown on you.

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We Live To Die Another Day

Something was pinching Maureen's eyelid. She grimaced, but her face barely moved. Everything was heavy, and her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.

"Mrm." She muttered.

A bright light shot into her eyes.

"Ngh!" Maureen twitched, blinking rapidly. "Oww!"

"You're awake. I wasn't expecting that." The voice sounded smooth, and a bit surprised. Maureen knew that voice.

"Rrm…Doctor Cul'n?"

Maureen tried to raise one of her stone-heavy limbs to shield her eyes from the brightness. With some effort, she brought up a hand. "Why'sat so bright?" She asked.

The bright light vanished. "I was just checking to see if your pupils were dilating properly."

"M' alive? Not sparkly?"

"You're very much alive, Maureen."

Maureen blinked. She was lying on a white hospital bed, the backboard elevated slightly to keep her head and shoulders up. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a hospital gown, and there was an IV in her arm.

"Oh, ew." Her eyes followed the plastic tube up to the IV bag, hanging from a hook.

Carlisle Cullen smiled at her. He was sitting on a wheeled stool by her bedside. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, but it's necessary. You lost a lot of fluids."

Maureen stared blearily at Carlisle. _Oh, yeah. I vomited. A lot. _

Carlisle raised his hands—he was holding a small penlight. "It's good that you're awake, but I need to check your eyes."

Maureen nodded, and sat still as Carlisle shone the penlight at each eye, holding up a finger for her to focus on. Maureen winced at the blinding light, but didn't move.

"They're better than they were before." Carlisle said, turning off the penlight and slipping it into the breast pocket of his doctor's coat. "And you waking up just from me pulling at your eyelids is a very good sign."

"What time's it? Why're my eyes messed up?" Maureen asked. Coherent speech was difficult.

"It's a little past eight pm, on Saturday." Carlisle said. "And you knocked your head pretty hard when you were throwing up. You sustained mild trauma, but superficially it's just a bad bruise."

_I concussed myself on the toilet seat?_ Maureen didn't know whether to laugh or be mortified.

"And you kept vomiting even after you passed out, which certainly didn't help you." Carlisle continued. "Or the paramedics, for that matter."

He smiled again, as if to be reassuring. "You're looking much better, though."

Maureen rolled her eyes slightly. _Well, if Bella's still embarrassed about being wheeled off campus with a neck brace on, I think puking on the EMTs kind of tops that._

Maureen had another thought, an unpleasant shock.

"What about the bite?" She asked, dread heavy in her stomach. Even if Carlisle had been here when she arrived at the hospital, the people in the ambulance must have seen.

Carlisle looked Maureen straight in the face. "That's a good question. What bite?"

Maureen blinked. She peered at Carlisle, but his amber-colored eyes were completely serious.

"The vampire bite." Maureen croaked. Not only did her head feel weird, but talking was starting to hurt. Her throat felt scraped and raw.

"There were three of them, they found me in the woods outside school. One of them bit me on the neck. It hurt so bad."

"…I was hoping you could explain that to me." Carlisle said quietly.

"Huh?"

Carlisle pulled something out of his coat pocket, and tossed it lightly onto Maureen's lap. It was the blue scarf she'd made. She reached out, and grasped it. It was as soft and cool as before—but a portion of it was stained with a dark substance. She squeezed it, and the substance crackled and flaked.

"That's dried vampire venom." Carlisle said. "It soaked through part of the scarf, which they took off your neck when you got to the hospital. The paramedics were a bit too preoccupied with your projectile vomiting to take it off in the ambulance."

"But they did take off the scarf. They found the bite." Maureen said. "Were you here?"

"No." Carlisle said. "I didn't know you were here until I arrived for my evening shift. Alice didn't see you in her visions at all. But again, I ask. What bite?"

Maureen made a face. "The bite! I got bitten!"

_That's another thing. _She thought._ Why is it when I get hurt by vampires, it's always in the woods? Why is Forks a cautionary warning about leaving civilization?_

"Stop playing head games." Maureen said. "I got bitten, and I had to get the poison out—"

"—with the scarf." Carlisle finished. His face was unreadable. "I suspected as much. More of your cloth magic."

"Yeah, my 'cloth magic', sure." Maureen said. "Are you saying the doctors didn't see the bite?"

"Maureen…" Carlisle reached into the nightstand by the hospital bed, and pulled out a small mirror. He held it up, angled so that it reflected her shoulders and head. Maureen looked into it.

The spot where she'd been bitten wasn't bandaged. And all she could see was some greenish-blue bruising, on the edges of a jagged, half-healed scab.

"You scraped your neck on something…over a week ago." Carlisle said. "That's what Dr. Snow wrote on your chart when you were admitted. And then I had to edit the chart, because the wound has been healing rapidly since you arrived. At the rate it's going, it will finish scarring tomorrow."

"Oh." Maureen was at a loss for words. "Well. That's good, right?"

Dr. Cullen was frowning. He looked genuinely upset. Maureen blinked. She'd only met Carlisle once before, but he hadn't given her the impression that he was the kind of person who got mad. Like, ever.

"Is something wrong?" Maureen asked.

"On the rare occasion someone survives a vampire bite, the scar doesn't look like that." Carlisle said. "Jasper is covered with bites, sustained _after _his transformation, and they've all left pale, cold scars. But not yours. The mark on your neck might as well have been from a sharp rock, or a stick. Not only do you survive your bite, without aid from a vampire, without turning_ into_ a vampire…now your wound is fading into normal scar tissue? _What are you_?"

Maureen grimaced. This was the Achilles Heel, then. According to Forks, Carlisle was ever-calm and ever-compassionate. But no one could be completely perfect, even if their perspective said they were. And of all things to shake Carlisle, an unnatural act of healing—beyond the capabilities of even vampires—seemed reasonable.

"Carlisle, you know what I am." Maureen said. "I'm not from here. This shouldn't be a big deal. I'm not God, or anything. I just bent the rules to save myself."

"It's impossible." Carlisle said. "It's not normal."

"Then I'm just a special unique fucking snowflake, aren't I!" Maureen hissed. "I'm a pretty pretty princess, protected by my magical fancypants powers of using yarn to NOT DIE."

The retort was much less impressive than she'd hoped—her voice came out like a half-whispered croak. Carlisle looked startled at her low outburst. Then he smiled slightly.

"You're right, of course." He said. "We should simply be thankful that your abilities kept you alive, and kept our secret safe as well."

"Oh, no worries. I'm feeling plenty damn grateful." Maureen eyed the IV drip. "Not particularly comfortable, but grateful, yes. What about my ribs? He kicked me in the chest."

Carlisle nodded. "You have some bruising, but nothing's broken or fractured. Can I ask who 'he' is? Are you comfortable with talking about it?"

Maureen resisted the urge to make a snarky comment. She felt fine, but Post Traumatic Stress was nothing to disregard.

"It's okay." Maureen said. "They called him James. He's blonde vampire, with a douchy ponytail. He was with a redheaded girl, and a black guy with dreadlocks. I'm going to assume they're not friends of yours."

"No, they are not." Carlisle said, softly but firmly. "We think they're responsible for a few other deaths between here and Seattle."

"Peachy."

"But this James…he stopped biting you." Carlisle looked pensive. "He must have extraordinary self-control."

"Don't know about that. According to James, I taste as bad as I smell." Maureen said. "He wanted to stop, and he could. Lucky me."

"We're going to be keeping an eye out for them, in case they come back." Carlisle reassured her.

"I don't expect you to carry out justice, or anything." Maureen said. "Life's not fair like that. I'm just glad to be alive. When can I go home?"

"We're going to keep you here for another twenty-four hours, for observation." Carlisle said. "Then we'll send you home. But you should stay in bed for the next few days, getting plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to call your Aunt and Uncle now, and tell them you're awake."

"They're not here?" Maureen raised her eyebrows.

"They were here." Carlisle said. "Your cousin, too. But I thought it best if I was the only one present when you woke up, so we could…discuss what had happened in privacy. After a few hours you were declared stable, and I suggested your family go home. I know there's some sort of school dance going on tonight, and I told them it would be good if your cousin went…to take her mind off the stress of today."

Maureen laughed, despite the pain in her throat.

"Oh, man. Dr. Cullen, you have _no idea_ how much Jessica owes you right now. No idea."

Carlisle smiled. "Well, I'm glad it was the right thing to do. As for you…try and keep your eyes open, if you can. But don't worry if you feel like nodding off. I think you're out of the woods, as far as the concussion is concerned."

"Good to know."

Carlisle smiled and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Maureen puffed up her cheeks and exhaled, letting out a big _whoosh _of air. She raised her arm—the one not plugged into the drip—and gingerly touched the side of her neck. It felt a little tender, and the scab was rough under her fingertips. But there was no pain.

She reached for the scarf lying across her lap, and squeezed it tightly.

* * *

_A/N: It's important not to forget that while my OC is enjoyable (and I'm glad to hear that), Maureen is still a Mary Sue. And Mary Sues pull deus ex machinas all the time, saving themselves from certain death (if not everyone else as well). Maureen's not the strongest of her species, but she can still do quite a bit when she puts her mind to it._

_I would also like to point out that this all happened on the same day that Edward took Bella to the field in the woods. So while Edward and Bella were lying in a sunny meadow staring at each other, Maureen was vomiting copiously into a toilet. The juxtaposition pleases me immensely._

The best to you all. Read & Review!


	21. Absent Or Skipping

**Catnip Banana** - I'm not sure exactly how far through the book we are (I know it takes for goddamn ever to get to the part where Bella actually starts dating Edward) but I'd estimate about three quarters. We're almost done, really.

**Amarth Obstreperous** - I also like stories that update regularly. Thanks for sticking around. : )

**lil artist** - That's murphy's law, right there. I'm glad you have time to check in and catch up, at least. You've been reading this for ages, which is awesome. I hope you find the following stories entertaining too.

* * *

Absent Or Skipping

Maureen was discharged from the hospital Sunday afternoon. It was a little earlier than planned, But Maureen's assigned physician had actually come down with the flu. So they'd called Carlisle to cover his shift. That helped things move along quicker.

"It pays to have connections." Maureen muttered, as Carlisle checked her eyes for the last time. _Even if the connection thinks your survival is an affront to the rules._

She had to agree with Carlisle. The whole healing-scarf thing _was_ pretty ludicrous. But Maureen refused to think her powers were _too_ stupidly special when they'd saved her life. It wasn't the sort of thing she'd do every day. But knowing she could help herself, if she needed to...that was comforting. Besides, Forks had telepaths and precognitives who drank blood and sparkled in the sunlight. Knitting a venom-purging scarf was minor in comparison.

"No lingering effects from the concussion, and she's unlikely to experience such an extreme bout of nausea again." Carlisle explained to her Aunt and Uncle. "Keep her on a liquid/semi-soft diet for a few days, just in case. The allergy tests came up negative, so whatever she ate was probably something that got mixed into your normal food. It's good no one else got sick, but clean out your fridge and cupboards just to be safe."

Carlisle neglected to mention the blue bruises all along Maureen's side—he'd fudged them off her medical chart, since there was no good explanation for them. He'd also faked the allergy tests, which Maureen appreciated—being pricked by two dozen needles would not have improved her day.

Jessica was waiting in the lobby when they came down, Aunt Joan and Uncle Thomas waking with Maureen between them.

"Are you going to hurl on me?" Jessica asked. But her arms were already open.

"Only if you deserve it." Maureen hugged Jessica, but not very hard. Her cousin got the message, and kept her embrace light as well.

"I can't believe you got sick like that." Jessica said. "I didn't know the human body could hold that much puke! Don't worry, nobody knows yet. When people asked where you were, I told them you'd decided to stay home. I figured you'd prefer to be on your feet and back at school before everybody found out about the Food Poisoning From Hell."

"You kept your mouth shut at the dance?" Maureen was astonished.

"Well, yeah." Jessica shrugged. "Dr. Cullen told me to put it out of my mind. And I was _worried _about you. Guess it sort of scared me sober."

"Jessie, you are the fucking bomb." Maureen said. "Even when you get on my nerves."

"And you drive me nuts with your stupid shenanigans." Jessica said. "But it was awful, yesterday. I didn't know if you were going to be okay. Hospital stuff is serious. Like when you had leprosy, right?"

"Huh?" The two girls stopped on the curb, while Uncle Thomas jogged over to the parking lot to drive the car to the door. Aunt Joan kept her hand on Maureen's shoulder.

"When did I have leprosy?"

"Didn't you catch it in third grade, or something?" Jessica made a face. "I remember because I looked it up at the library. Seriously, that disease is gross. Not funny at all."

"Jess, that was minor necrosis from a spider bite. I didn't have—oh, nevermind."

Uncle Thomas pulled up in his car, and Aunt Joan helped Maureen into the backseat, putting a hand on Maureen's head to make sure she didn't bump it.

"I'm fine, Aunt Joan. I'm not a cripple." Maureen said, as her Aunt got into the car.

Uncle Thomas slowly drove out of the hospital lot. "Indulge us, Maureen. Yesterday was pretty rough."

"Did you call Cathy and my Dad?" Maureen asked.

Uncle Thomas nodded, then frowned.

"They said they'd call back, but they haven't yet." He said. "I'll just give them a ring when we get home, tell them you were discharged."

_Out of sight, out of mind._ Maureen thought.

"How was the Spring Dance?" Maureen asked Jessica. "Tell me everything."

That unleashed the floodgates. Jessica spent the rest of the drive describing the dance in minute detail—although she tactfully chose not to mention the part where Mike kissed her until Maureen was tucked into bed, and her Aunt and Uncle were downstairs.

"It was fantastic." Jess sighed. "Mike's amazing."

She patted Maureen's knee, which was just a bump under the covers. "I'm gonna go help Mom throw out every speck of food in the house. Dad says he's going to pick up some Chinese for dinner. You rest, okay?"

"Will do."

Maureen slept the rest of the day, only sitting up long enough to have a bowl of miso soup. She also woke up in the middle of the night, to the sounds of a storm outside. The thunder rumbled loudly, and the wind whistled along her window. Forks was clicking in her head, chattering intelligibly. Something important was going on.

"Shut up. I'm recovering." Maureen groaned, pulling the blankets over her head.

She stayed home from school the next day, sleeping and eating non-solid foods. When Jessica got home, she confessed that she'd let news of Maureen's food poisoning slip out. Maureen shrugged.

"Not a biggie." She said. "I'll be back in school tomorrow anyway. Lauren can make fun of me all she likes, then."

"You weren't the only one who was gone." Jessica said. "Bella Swan wasn't in school either."

That got Maureen's attention. "Uh?"

"The Cullens and the Hales were out, too." Jessica added. "The weather wasn't too great, but maybe they thought it would be sunny or something."

_I smell something fishy in fucking Forks._ Maureen thought.

Tuesday confirmed it. Maureen went to school a little shaky on he feet, with chicken noodle soup packed in a lunch bag. But she was the only absentee to return. Bella was still gone, and so were the Cullens.

"I hope she's okay." Angela said worriedly. Maureen sipped her lunch, and tried very hard not to care.

_I'd feel better if I knew where they were._ Maureen finally admitted to herself. _ I hate being in the dark._

But nobody knew what was going on for sure. There was a general assumption that the Cullens might have taken Bella camping. But that was too simple an answer. Then Rob Sawyer said his dad had talked to Chief Swan, and apparently Bella was back in Phoenix, but there was some kind of family drama going on. No one knew where the Cullens were.

"Maybe they moved away." Mike said.

The sky was overcast, but it was the warmest day yet, so everyone had gone outside at lunch. Most of their group was sitting at a nearby picnic table, but Mike had chosen to lean back against a hillock. Maureen had done the same, except her posture was less relaxed. She was giving the cowl pattern another go, with green yarn this time. The blue she'd put away, in a safe place. Given what the knitted portion had done, the remainder should to be saved for something special.

"No." Maureen said. "Mrs. Cullen's been around town. And as far as I know, Dr. Cullen hasn't quit his job."

"I heard he's home sick." Eric Yorkie called from the table. "A bunch of doctors and nurses at the hospital came down with the flu, or something."

_Carlisle's not sick._ Maureen thought. _Though he might be using that as an excuse for his absence. Wherever the hell he is._

"I wouldn't mind it if they moved." Mike said stubbornly. "Then I wouldn't have to see Edward Cullen again, or any of his weird fake-siblings. It'd be an improvement if they were gone."

"Yeah. Who cares how many sick people Dr. Cullen has healed in this region?" Maureen said. "What really matters is that his adopted children are freaky."

"You know what I mean." Mike turned on his side, propping his head up on his arm. "They don't play sports, or contribute anything. But everyone fawns over them anyway."

"Girls fawn over them, you mean." Maureen corrected, eyes on her knitting.

"Guys too!" Mike protested. "You should've seen when the blonde brought her convertible to school. There were half a dozen guys drooling all over it."

"The Cullens do own expensive cars." Maureen agreed. "But in the end, they're just a bunch of awkward people who don't know how to socialize properly. Unless they suddenly decide to knock you down and take your lunch money, you should just ignore them."

Mike grumbled something under his breath. Maureen caught the end of it, and scowled.

"Bella Swan is not your lunch money." She said.

"Cullen snatched her up." Mike argued. "First month she was here, he gave her the cold shoulder like he does everyone else. Then he crooks his finger, she sits at his table, and two days later they're an item! He's a pretty-boy punk, and he thinks he can have whatever he wants."

"He can have whatever he can take." Maureen said. "It's the same with every asshole."

She reached up to touch the scar on her neck—a rough patch of tissue was all that remained of the chunk James had taken out of her.

"You have to put up a fight, whether it's active or passive." Maureen murmured. "You have to say no, or they'll take everything."

"He took Bella." Mike said.

"And she didn't say no." Maureen pointed out.

"I talked to her about him the other day." Mike flopped onto his back again. "And I tried to get him to buzz off, when she was sick from the blood typing."

"Not your fight." Maureen said. "It was her choice to make. And she decided to date him. Some girls just go all gooey for the pale, waiflike Adonis look."

"Is that your type, then?" Mike asked.

Maureen laughed. "Fuck no. When I was younger and stupider, maybe. But not anymore. I suppose if I've got any soft spots now, it's for the black-haired blue-eyed type."

"With pale skin." Mike groused.

"There's pale skin, and there's skin the color of _dairy products_." Maureen said. "I have no desire to get intimate with a piece of feta cheese."

"You're the only one." Mike said. "Every other girl wants Cullen. He's like chick catnip. They can't resist him."

"I think Bella's attraction to Edward also involves some mental deficiency on her part." Maureen said. "Not just his consumption-like pallor and smoldering eyeballs."

"Bella's not mentally deficient." Mike snapped. "She's pretty, and smart, and nice."

_With all the depth of a baking tin._ Maureen thought.

"Whatever."

Mike turned back on his side, facing Maureen. "Hey…do me a favor, and don't tell Jessica we had this talk. She might take it the wrong way, and get upset."

"I have no doubt she would." Maureen said dryly. "Sure, I can keep it a secret. But I'll tell you this, Mike Newton. You break up with my cousin, it had better be because things aren't working out. Not because Bella Swan magically became available, and crooked _her _finger in _your_ direction. If that happens and you hurt my cousin, so help me I will shove this knitting needle up your ass."

"It's kind of thin." Mike observed.

"Sideways."

"Ah." Mike made a stricken face. "Don't worry. Jessie's really cool; I like her a lot. I won't dump her for somebody else."

_I believe that about as much as I believe Jess wouldn't drop you in a second for Edward Cullen._ Maureen thought sadly. _But thanks for the reassurance._

"Bottom line, things are what they are." Maureen said. "I'm pretty damn sure Bella will still be dating Edward Cullen when they come back."

"_If_ the Cullens come back." Mike muttered.

"If _Bella_ comes back." Was Maureen's response.

"I hope she comes back." Mike said wistfully. "Wherever she is."

"Phoenix." Maureen said.

_Or a shallow grave. But that's doubtful, given Forks' adoration for her. Unless it wanted her frozen like Snow White, perfect and protected forever. I could see her in a glass cage, buried forty fathoms beneath the earth. It's a likely as anything else, given I have no fucking clue what's going on right now._

Maureen was annoyed at the lack of cohesive information. Forks itself was no help. No matter how many times she asked where Bella and the Cullens were, it just kept throwing out incomprehensible images and words. All the while impressing that this was VERY VERY important.

It was irritating as all hell, so she let it drop. Maureen tried to focus on sleeping, and regaining her full health. Whatever was happening, eventually the truth would come out.

* * *

_A/N: Ages back, when I was first building Maureen, I watched the scene in the New Moon film where Jessica is gabbing at Bella after a zombie movie—and mentions her cousin had leprosy. That gave me the idea to have Maureen be Jessica's cousin. I thought I'd throw in a nod towards the movie line._

Read & Review! We have only two chapters left to go._  
_


	22. Four Snapshots

I'm always glad for reviews, especially when they involve questions, or commentary about specific parts of the chapter. : )

Trying to write a fanfic that follows the canon storyline is always a little tricky. Unless it's an AU, you're pretty much just following someone else's plot. Normally I prefer to damage canon as little as possible...there are ways to write an OC without ever touching the main characters, if the world is big enough. Obviously that isn't the case here. But Maureen is never going to stick to the canon plot entirely. She's an outsider, and she has her own stuff to deal with. There will be more and more of Maureen's personal storyline as time goes on.

To clarify, Maureen wasn't based off the leprosy line. I was already constructing her by then. It just gave me the idea to make Maureen Jessica's cousin...even though the line was in the film and not the book, it was an admittance from Jessica that she_ had_ an unnamed cousin. Why couldn't that cousin be Maureen?

If I've really done my job, every time a reader watches New Moon and hears that line, they'll think Jessica is talking about Maureen. ;)

* * *

Four Snapshots

It only took a week. All the Cullens except Edward were back in school on Monday. Maureen waited patiently until lunch, then went to the patch of woods behind the soccer field. Rosalie showed up five minutes later, walking gracefully across the grass. She had an envelope in her hand.

"I got you this." She said. Her voice was still haughty as ever, but quieter. A little more subdued. "Emmett helped pick it out."

Maureen took the unsealed envelope from Rosalie's outstretched hand. There was a card inside, with the cartoon picture of a cat wrapped up in bandages on the front.

"I hear you had an accident." Maureen read. She opened the card. "Luckily, you've still got eight lives left! Get well soon, from Jasper, Alice, Emmett, Esme & Rosalie."

"Carlisle and Edward are still out of town, or I would have made them sign it." Rosalie explained.

"It's cheesy." Maureen said. "I like it."

"I know I was a bitch to you, the last time we spoke." Rosalie said bluntly. "I was furious that day. It wasn't anything you did, but I didn't care. And then you bumped into those nomads…I am so, _so_ sorry you were attacked by them. I know it's not my fault. But Edward told Bella to stay out of the woods, and he kept a close eye on her. I should at least have warned you to keep clear of the forest."

Maureen shook her head. "It is definitely not your fault. And to be perfectly honest, I'd rather save my own ass then have a personal bodyguard stalk me twenty hours a day."

"It didn't do Bella a bit of good, anyhow." Rosalie said. "After I found out what happened to you, I wanted to see how you were. Carlisle said you were fine, and would probably be back in school in no time. So I waited. But there was the whole mess Sunday night, and all of a sudden we were running around to save that stupid, stupid girl from James."

"Oh, lord." Maureen said. "James found Bella?"

"He made it into a hunting game." Rosalie sniffed. "Kill Bella to mess with Edward. It was long and awful, and it dragged up north and all the way down to Phoenix. At least that little chit of a girl is still alive, and human."

"Sounds like a wild ride." Maureen said. "In the worst way possible. What happened to James and his buddies?"

"Laurent—that's the other male—sort of defected to our side." Rosalie said. "He gave us some advice, so we recommended friends of ours he could stay with. And Victoria ran off. But James we killed."

"I see." Maureen said. She didn't know how she felt about that—changing the subject was probably best.

"When are Carlisle and Edward coming home?"

"Soon." Rosalie said. "And Bella too, although from what Emmett tells me she's pretty banged up. Broken leg, cuts from glass. James even bit her. Edward had to suck the poison out. I suppose I'm glad he was able to. She'd have turned or died, otherwise."

"You can _suck_ the goddamn poison out?" Maureen gaped. "That's fucking cheating! And Carlisle had the nerve to bitch about my scarf."

"It is not 'cheating'." Rosalie said. "What do you do if a rattlesnake bites you?"

"…Okay, point."

_Forks beat Bella to a pulp, and nearly turned her into a vampire. All to heighten the fake drama. I may never get used to this bullshit._

"You're going to have to tell me all about this scarf business, you know." Rosalie said.

"It might come out sounding like gibberish." Maureen said. "Just to forewarn you."

Rosalie smirked. "I'm willing to take the risk."

So Maureen told Rosalie all about the bite, and the scarf, and how she'd expelled the venom from her body in the most illogical way possible….and since she was still breathing, Maureen couldn't bring herself to give a shit.

"I'm glad you're still breathing too." Rosalie said. "You didn't give up on your humanity. Don't ever give up."

Maureen bumped into Jasper the next day. She was walking to the cafeteria, along one of the more deserted pathways. He was sitting cross-legged on a small boulder beside the path.

"Not spending lunch with your precognitive hubby?" Maureen asked.

Jasper smiled. "Alice is doing a lot of thinking today. I'm giving her space."

"She's looking at the future?"

"Examining her past." Jasper said. "She found out some personal information, when we went down to Phoenix."

"Tell me." Maureen dropped her backpack, and climbed on the boulder. There wasn't room for her to perch next to Jasper, so she sat behind him and leaned against his back, facing away from him. It was like sitting against a cold, cement wall. But it didn't bother her.

"Alice didn't know who she was, for the longest time." Jasper said. "She remembered nothing of her human life. She woke as a vampire, without a maker, with only her visions to guide her. Because she could read the future, she knew she'd become a Cullen one day. She knew she didn't have to eat people to survive. So she never did."

Maureen grimaced. "I'm going to choose not to argue about how dumb that sounds, or how it fucks with the principles of cause and effect along a timeline."

"I try not to question Alice's powers." Jasper said. "But they work. It's how she found me. She knew I was coming her way, and that we were meant to be together."

"I'm also going to choose not to argue that you two hooked up in the most asinine way possible."

"Oh, it was bizarre to me too." Jasper laughed. "But we suit each other so well. She's very dear to me. When she's done thinking about how James affected her life, I'll be here for her."

"James again? Yeesh…ponytail boy gets around, even post-mortem." Maureen said.

"He's the reason Alice is a vampire." Jasper said.

"_He _made her?"

"No. Alice was like Bella…her blood smelled sweet, and irresistible. And there was a vampire liked Edward, who chose to watch over and protect her instead of draining her. Alice was a patient at the mental asylum where he worked."

"She was in a nuthouse? As in, an asylum built before the nineteen-sixties?" Maureen hugged her knees. "Jesus …that's why Alice's hair is so short, isn't it?"

She felt Jasper nod. "It's likely she lost her memory from electroshock therapy."

"You know, it's kind of hard to protect someone unless you rescue them _from_ that kind of torture." Maureen added.

"But the old vampire _did _protect her. James wanted to hunt her, so the vampire took her out of the asylum and made her immortal. James was so enraged, he killed Alice's maker."

"Shit." Maureen said. She bit her lip. "I keep forgetting, I don't really know where any of you come from. Alice's history doesn't justify how insufferably enigmatic she is...but it's easier to understand a person if you know their story. Not that I want to pry. A person's past is their own business."

Jasper shrugged; the cement wall shifted. "You know a bit of mine already. How I trained newborns for the southern vampire wars."

"Vampire wars?" Maureen made a suspicious face. "I didn't hear that part. Am I going to think that this story is stupid?"

"Knowing you? Probably." Jasper said. "I won't go into detail. But you should know that unlike Alice, I killed people to eat. And I killed those newborn vampires too, when they ceased to be young and powerful. It was my job. I did it for my sire. I didn't know there was any other way to live. There's no excuse, but that's the truth."

"Oh, hell." Maureen said. "Jasper, I didn't mean to say your story was stupid."

"I know you didn't." Jasper said. "I just want you to understand that I carry everything, bad and good. Everyone I killed, I felt their last moments. It's what comes of being an empath. Sometimes I think I feel too much. And I remember the feelings of the past far too well."

"I'm not as worse off as you." Maureen said. "But I feel too much, too. More than I can bear, sometimes. It hurts."

A cold, smooth hand closed over Maureen's warm one.

"It's sad, to know you are in pain." Jasper said. "But rude as it is, I must confess it is also soothing. It is always soothing to know one is not alone. Misery loves company."

Maureen snorted, but she couldn't keep from smiling. "Do you want to know something?"

"What?"

"I don't think Forks fully understands what it's doing. It produces peace, and apathy. But ironically enough, it doesn't care about that. All it cares about is deciding that some things Should Be. And then it Makes Them Be. There's no more to it, no deeper meaning. It is what it is, contrived and stupid."

"Some might see that as an existential horror." Jasper said lightly. "But I know others who would see it as an opportunity."

"And that's all I want it to be."

Bella Swan was back in school by the beginning of April. Her leg was in a cast, and everyone made much of her, asking her to repeat the story of how she'd fallen through a hotel window in Phoenix. It was like the car crash all over again. Except now Edward had a written excuse to pick Bella up from every single class, and walk her to the next one. He also drove her back and forth from school. It was rare you saw the two of them apart, outside of separate classes. They were effectively joined at the hip.

"Can I see it?" Maureen asked Bella one day. Between Jasper and Rosalie, she'd gotten a gruesomely detailed account of the whole messy adventure.

"I know it's annoying when people hound you." Maureen said. "But I assume nobody's ever asked about your Count Chocula bite. And I'm genuinely curious."

Bella wordlessly raised her arm towards Maureen. On her hand there was a small curved mark, whiter even than Bella's already pale skin.

"It's cold. And it sparkles a little in sunlight." Bella said.

Maureen sighed. "It would."

Bella put her arm down.

"Edward said James bit you, too." Bella spoke quietly, head down, hands resting in her lap.

"Yeah." Maureen replied, keeping a weather eye on Mr. Mason lecturing in the front of the classroom. "Hurt like a bitch. But it wasn't a big deal, in the end."

"Not a big deal?" Bella's eyes widened. "You ended up in the hospital. We both did."

"Yeah, and that sucked. But I'm fine now. And you'll be out of your cast eventually, right?

"I'm not holding my breath for it." Bella said. "Maureen, you told me there wasn't any real suffering here. But you were wrong. I suffered. Edward suffered—"

"From a contrived, shallow danger." Maureen said. "You were scared. You got hurt. You were in pain. I get that. But it's not as bad as you're making it out to be. Nothing here is. Half the stress is just from Forks, pushing angst on you. Translated to another perspective, your bite would be nothing. You don't really carry trauma from it. The scar on your arm goes no deeper than your skin."

Bella scowled. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I got bitten too. Sure, the idea of going into the woods right now gives me the willies. But I could overcome it easily, if I wanted to. It's not a real issue."

Maureen pulled her shirt collar aside, tilting her head to expose her neck. "Doesn't even look like a vampire bite, does it? The scars from this place blur like ink, if you refuse to take them."

Mr. Mason asked a question, and both girls fell silent as Eric Yorkie answered him. Mr. Mason nodded, and continued the lecture.

"You're not right about everything." Bella began again.

"Never said I was. But those things I told you in the bathroom, they were on the mark. Trust me."

Bella shook her head. "No. You said people are inherently selfish. But you were wrong. I thought James…I thought he had my Mother. So I went to him, to save her. The chips were down. But I didn't think of my own survival. I could only think of _my Mother_. It turned out to be a ruse. She was safe. But I was okay with dying, if she was safe."

"So you let James bite you?" Maureen said. "You didn't run?"

Bella frowned. "Well…right before he threw me, I tried…"

"Shut up, Bella." Maureen said. "You were afraid for your own survival, and you tried to run away. There's no shame in that. And there's s no virtue in martyrdom. It might save a life, and that's good. But it can just as easily take lives. And it should never, never be exalted. It's just killing yourself with a purpose. You—"

Maureen took a breath. "Enough. I don't care about hurting your precious little feelings. But I'm sick of having nothing good to say. So I won't say anything at all. We're done here."

Except when group projects required them to communicate, Maureen didn't talk to Bella again. She spent some time with Jasper and Rosalie, but not routinely—finals were coming up, and Maureen began putting effort into her schoolwork. The last thing she wanted to do was fail, and be kept back a year.

Late in the month, the Stanleys took a day trip up to Seattle. Aside from a little sight-seeing and good restaurant food, the main purpose of the trip was for Jessica to buy her prom dress. And for Maureen to buy fabric to _make_ her prom dress.

They went to several department stores, and a few high-end shops. In every place they went, Jessica never failed to try on the most…revealing….dresses.

"You don't need that much help in the bustline, you know." Maureen pointed out. She was slouched on a bench outside the changing rooms. "Or in the hips. The last one made you look like a robber baron's mistress."

Jessica swooshed out of her dressing room, resplendent in a slinky silver dress that slit high up her right thigh. "Robber what? You're making shit up. I look fabulous."

"You look fabulously _raunchy_." Maureen said. "And while I'm sure Mike would appreciate that, I feel the need to give you my objective opinion."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Which is?"

"You're drifting dangerously close to high society slutwear."

"This is not slutwear!" Jessica said. "This is _fashionable_. You're just not used to seeing me look this great."

"That is true. I am totally not used to seeing your boobs pushed up to your clavicles."

Jessica made a rude noise. "Okay, you know what? You need to relax. You've been tense and crazy for the last three months. I dare you to make your dress just like this one."

"What?"

"Well, not exactly like this one." Jessica sniffed. "I think the sequins are too much. But I dare you, I _double dog_ dare you, to make yourself a prom dress that is _cataclysmically sexy_."

Maureen burst out laughing.

"I bet you can't do it!" Jessica said. "I bet you can't sew yourself a nice dress that shows off your boobs and butt. It's too_ hard_ for you."

Maureen sobered instantly. "Give me some credit, Jessie. Do you _really_ think I'm going to rise to a taunt like that?"

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Only one chapter left! **Please Read & Review.**


	23. Truth As I Know It

I'm happy you're still engrossed in the story, Catnip Banana, despite feeling tired. One of the best motivators is knowing that there are people who are waiting eagerly for the next chapter or installment of a story, people who laugh and gasp and enjoy the story, even if they never say so.

And finally, we have the last chapter of the Twilight story. It's a bit long, but I recommend reading it closely. I put in a few hints and clues about things you don't know yet. Also, it's one of my favorite chapters.

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Truth As I Know It

_I cannot believe she talked me into this._

"Jess!" Maureen hollered. "Did you hear me? The 'limo' is here!"

"And the limo driver is lookin' good." Mike said, striking a pose against the door of his car.

"Dumbass." Maureen said fondly. She pulled her wrap over her shoulders, shivering slightly. She wasn't used to being this exposed.

Like an idiot, she'd taken Jessica's bait. Weeks of sewing later, Maureen stood in the Stanley's front yard wearing a calf-length dress that fit like a second skin. It was a dusky green color, something between forest and olive. The fabric was a soft satin, with a little bit of stretch to it. She'd used her sewing machine to stitch swirling patterns in black thread, accentuating her hips and underbust. The dress was backless, with a low V neckline and straps that tied behind her neck, baring her shoulders entirely. It was more flesh than Maureen was used to exposing at any given time. The matching wrap she'd knitted was doing nothing for her modesty and body temperature.

"You look really great, Maureen." Mike said for the third time.

"That's code for 'I can see your cleavage', right?"

Mike scratched the back of his head. "…it's not _just_ about your cleavage."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Jess stork-walked quickly out the front door. The dress she's chosen was a pink gown that pushed her boobs up and out.

"You'd move faster if you didn't have death-spikes strapped to your feet." Maureen pointed out. She was wearing open-toed heels, but they were nowhere near stiletto sized.

"Flats are for quitters, Maureen." Jessica said. "We have to wait a second; Dad wants pictures."

Eventually, they got on the road. Jessica sat up front with Mike, and Maureen sat in the back, poking at her head idly.

"Don't pick at your hair." Jessica said. "You'll mess up the product."

Jessica had spent approximately three hours doing her own hair and makeup, and one hour doing Maureen's. Maureen had to admit, the end result was pretty smoking. But her scalp was a little itchy.

"This is the life…cruising with two chicks in my car." Mike sighed. Jess swotted his arm.

"You know Maureen, we could have gotten you a date." Jessica said. "Like a sophomore, or something. I could have pulled some strings—oh!"

Jessica's phone was buzzing. She opened her matching clutch purse and took it out. "…Oh my God."

"What?" Maureen asked.

"Lauren just had a call from Tyler. He got stood up by Bella!"

"Tyler wasn't going to the prom with Bella." Maureen said. She had no idea what Bella Swan's prom plans were, and frankly didn't care. But she knew full well that Tyler Crowley was never taking Bella anywhere. She'd known it back when the rumors first started.

"He said he was! Hang on." Jessica was texting furiously.

After a few minutes, Jessica's phone chirped again.

"Tyler tried to pick Bella up from her house." Jessica said, scanning the text. "But she'd already left with Edward. Bella's Dad called Edward to prove it, and Edward dissed Tyler over the phone. Holy cow!"

Maureen thwapped her knuckles against the window, trying to contain her sudden burst of rage in a single action.

"Hey!" Mike said. "Watch the glass."

"Sorry." Maureen shot Mike an apologetic look in the rearview mirror.

She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth. But her teeth were clenching. She could practically hear the smug little lilt in Edward's voice, as he mocked an already humiliated Tyler. A century old vampire versus a teenage boy. There was no competition.

"How did this happen?" Jessica was dumbfounded. "Didn't Tyler talk to Bella? I told him Bella said she wasn't going with him."

"You told Lauren." Mike corrected. "I remember. I was there."

"If I tell Lauren something, she usually spreads it!" Jessica said. "This is _so_ not my fault. I still can't believe it. Wow. Stood up on her _doorstep_. No kidding, this is a _totally_ awkward drama fest. I think it's like—"

Maureen rested her chin in her hands, and plugged her ears with her fingers.

The parking lot was already full when they arrived, lights and music streaming from the gym. Mike helped Jessica out of the passenger seat, and shut the door behind her.

"So chivalrous!" Jessica giggled.

"Only in small doses, please." Maureen said. She climbed out on her own, but let Mike slam the door behind her.

The gym wasn't tastefully decorated, but it was festive and pretty. There was crepe paper on the walls, and balloon arches floating above the doors. It put Maureen in mind of a big multi-colored frosted cupcake. There were lots of circular tables, a long refreshment bar with snacks and punch, and a small DJ station in the corner. A dance floor had been partitioned out, and there were quite a few couples twirling around, or grooving in place.

Jess waved at someone and headed off, pulling Mike along. Maureen felt suddenly alone, and out of place.

"I am beginning to see the value of bringing a date." Maureen said, staring down at her painted toenails. Standing at the threshold of the gym, she was reluctant to walk in alone.

_Just do it._ She told herself. _You're perfectly capable of swallowing your embarrassment or awkwardness, and plowing ahead. Just go in._

She turned around, and walked back down the path.

"Now you look even stupider." Maureen scolded herself. In all likelihood, no one had been looking. But she sure _felt_ stupid.

It had just been too much. Angry at Edward's newest act of assholery, cold and over-exposed in her skimpy dress…she hadn't had the nerve to walk in all by herself.

"It's just a goddamn prom!" Maureen snapped. "And one held at the end of our _junior year_, despite being intended for our graduating class. Which, if you think about it, is weird and stupid. There is nothing in that gym to run away from. Go the hell back."

But logic be damned, she didn't have it in her.

Maureen wandered the school grounds, circling the buildings and parking lot. Eventually her embarrassment fizzled down a bit, and she got used to the temperature of the air. Slowly, she unwrapped the shawl from around her shoulders, and held it in her hands.

A breeze blew past, swift and sudden. Maureen hissed a little, but didn't put her shawl back on. Instead she pushed her arms back, closing her eyes. Her shawl billowed out behind her, as she faced the wind.

"Enjoying the evening air?"

Maureen opened her eyes. There was a younger boy standing in front of her. He had long black hair, dark skin and an easy, relaxed smile.

"…Yes." Maureen said. She looked him full in the face. "You're not a student here, are you?"

The boy looked a little sheepish. "How'd you know?"

"Because this is a tiny-ass school, and your face is unfamiliar." Maureen said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

"Leaving. I came to say hello to someone, and deliver a message. Now I'm leaving."

He waved his arm. "Sorry to disturb you. You can get back to your…your wind posing."

His voice was pleasant, and good-natured. He didn't sound dismissive or insulting when he spoke. Maureen laughed at the sheer strangeness of hearing someone make a joke without malice. Whether it was her, Edward or Rosalie, someone was always putting somebody else down.

"It was a spur of the moment thing." Maureen explained. "I'm trying to get used to this dress. To be honest, it's a little more risqué than I'm comfortable with."

The boy looked her up and down. "Well, for the record, you look great."

"I know what that's code for." Maureen said. The boy made a confused face, and she laughed.

"Never mind." Maureen said, continuing past him down the walkway. "Have a good evening."

"You too." The boy called.

_Two tasks._ Forks whispered._ Two tasks._

Maureen frowned as she moved away. "What are you talking about? The boy?"

_Tasks done._ Forks said. But it sounded oddly…puzzled. _Truly done?_

Maureen's eyes widened. Forks was unsure of itself. The boy she'd just met was important in some way…or had been important. And Forks wasn't sure if he was going to be important again. It wasn't unheard of, for a perspective to be undecided on something. But it was a really fucking bizarre sensation, to feel a place uncompleted in its decisions.

_Told one on sand. Told two on land. Tasks done. Is he needed still?_

Shut up." Maureen said. "I don't want to know."

Maureen kept walking aimlessly, shawl in hand, past the outside lunch tables and through a cluster of bushes. Music could still be heard emanating from the gym, first in fast tempo, then slow, then fast again. Maureen imagined she could slip back inside now, if she wanted to. Put her shawl on a chair, get some punch, listen to the music and chat with Jessica. She felt happy in her own skin, unselfconscious and free. Over the rhythmic beat of the current song, she could hear voices near a patch of trees not far off. She made her way closer, until she could see a bench, and two seated figures cuddling on it. Forks' soft, excited prickle along the back of her head told her who those figures were.

"Oh, boy." Maureen muttered. But she kept walking. She had a bone to pick. And no party-crashing boys or fresh nighttime air was going to change that.

As Maureen got closer, she saw Bella stand up, Edward helping her to her feet.

"I know you said you wouldn't leave my side." Bella said. "But I really have to go to the bathroom. I'll be quick."

Edward smiled, and cupped Bella's hand between both of his. He kissed her knuckles. "I'll be waiting right here."

Bella turned and hobbled back towards the gym on her cast, starry-eyed and grinning like a loon.

When Edward made no move to follow Bella, Maureen stepped out from behind the trees. "Huh. Impressive. You actually let her go off alone. I was expecting you to go peep through the bathroom window, just to make sure she didn't drown in the toilet."

Edward turned to glare at Maureen. His suit made him look like a mortician.

"What do you want?" He said.

"You gave Tyler Crowley a verbal smackdown, because of a stupid miscommunication." Maureen said. "He was on Bella's _doorstep_. And you made him feel like even more of a fool."

Edward laughed. "Don't play righteous with me. You _hated _Tyler, for what he said to Bella."

"I hate asshole behavior. And since Tyler just got punk'd, by you, that makes you the asshole." Maureen said. "Are you even capable of change? Or are you just going to be an overprotective, nasty dick for the rest of eternity?"

Edward clenched his teeth. "It's a prom. Everyone is celebrating. Yet you still have to ruin this wonderful night with your foul words and acidic venom."

"I thought _you _were the one with the venom, Edward. And by the by, how does that work? How the hell do you kiss Bella without melting her lips off?"

"You possess metaphorical venom." Edward said, ignoring her question. "Like Lauren Mallory. Or your cousin. Even Tyler, so rude to assume he was good enough for Bella—"

"He's a goddamn teenage boy who's too big for his britches! Don't talk about him like he's a dog trying to slobber on your girlfriend's shoe!"

Edward scoffed. "He might as well be."

"People aren't perfect, Edward!" Maureen screamed. "They shouldn't have to pass some sort of purity test in order to be worthy of attention or respect! You want to hate everything and everyone for being flawed? I agree. There's not a place I've been that hasn't been _fucked up_. So I choose to avoid people for the most part, I wish them the best and go my own way. That's fine, you could do that. But don't _handpick_ the people you deem pure and honest enough to be your friends and family, then shit all over the rest! _That's_ the monster, Edward! Not the blood-drinking, not the venom. It's your attitude, it's the way you treat people!"

"If you're going to criticize how I think about people—"

"I don't care what you _think_!" Maureen shrieked. "That's my whole point! It's what you _do_, Edward. And what you do turns everyone around you that you don't like into paper cutouts. You say you don't want to be a monster; you want to be human. But you have no qualms about pushing human beings down if they annoy you or get in your way. The fact that it's effortless for you to hurt people only makes it worse. You bitch and moan about it, but it's a show you're putting on for yourself. You absolute hypocritical bastard!"

"And you know the worst part? The absolute worst? This place backs you up. Forks _agrees_ with you. Everyone _is_ a paper cutout! Nobody has feelings or real thoughts or any worth, unless they have your respect! Forks thinks all the human boys who crush on Bella are stupid. Forks agrees that the girls who love you should date those boys, because hey, rejects belong with rejects, right? Forks thinks you're in the right, that everything you do is the act of a saint, and that your relationship with Bella is the holiest of holies. This place, this whole perspective—"

"You mean 'universe' when you say that." Edward interrupted. He was visibly shaking with anger. "When you say 'Forks' and 'place' and 'perspective' you're talking about the whole world. As if there are parallel universes, and this is only one of them."

Maureen laughed bitterly.

"They don't run parallel to each other." She said. "Or in any direction, really. They just are."

Edward cocked his head, staring intently at her.

"Trying to read my mind?" Maureen spat. "Here, I'll make it easy for you."

Maureen concentrated, bringing to the front of her mind all she knew about her kind, and all the sights she'd ever seen.

_We roam about in gangs and groups leave all behind for new horizons. Walking, driving, swimming, flying, we can reach it all. Dragons, squidfolk, shopping malls, magic men and women underneath your feet. We know we know when you are vital, when you live and when you die. Dress like madmen hunt like drifters. Bees vanish, silverware dances. nails so long and cracked like ice. Settle down and pull the strings, get pulled back. Even ants the size of trucks. When we stop we hunker down or build a home of wealth and spice. A minotaur, a child's laughter kills the demon wind. There are names so many names but what you are is what you do. Eyes like diamonds, hair like copper. Old lizards freezing in the cold, kites and a shy girl, a man who kills, a man who saves, things that are not birds, but sing like lions. A dancing swan, a train adventure, lost hearts and broken lungs. The worst and the best. Honey-sweet tarts and hedge-brewed wine. Many wonders to behold, I can spin your straw to gold, many wonders to be read, I can spin your blood to thread—_

Maureen was gratified to see Edward take a step back, anger giving way to shock and disbelief.

"You're insane." He murmured. "That…it's impossible. None of that can be real. You're completely insane."

"I agree." Maureen said. "But that doesn't make me wrong."

"The phrase 'emotionally twisted' doesn't even begin to cover you, Edward. Or Forks. I know now I hate this place. But I wanted to come here. I wanted to come to a place where the worst abominations it had were just trivialities to me. Where there is no strife. Where people, feeling a hole in their heart where that conflict is supposed to be, fill it up with angst instead. In Forks they _make_ their grief. They don't have to, but they feel something's missing."

"And what I hate most of all is that it _is_ better. Despite everything I just said; Forks is better. It may spit on the 'impure' and consider nearly everyone to be insignificant parts of the scenery. But I've been to places where people are three-dimensional, where they have thoughts and dreams, and _every single one of them_ is capable of something unique and beautiful. And the people on top _still grind them into the dirt_! They grind _each other_ into the dirt, they rape, murder and enslave each other. They tell themselves that their victims are inferior scum, that it's deserved, that there is some kind of divine right, whether it's Jesus or the Earth Mother or just the their own Will. They delude themselves. Those perspectives simply don't care. Those worlds produce beautiful individuals, and allow them to destroy each other for no reason. The driving force isn't good or evil. It's not even numbness. It's unending, pitiless indifference."

"At least your perspective, Edward, really does back you up. And that's why I stay: the same reason I hate this place. Because I'd rather live in a place that offers divine support to a pretentious love-obsessed egomaniac who hides his judging mind behind a mask of pity. I'd rather that, than a place that neither supports nor denies all the murderers and abusers who claim Divine will as their victims weep."

"All the worlds are sick, Edward. I hate them, and I hate this empathy towards their suffering that I can't escape. Forks is an awful place, a contrived tower built from matchsticks. But shouting at you, focusing my hate on the tiny flaws of this place…it takes my thoughts away from the true horror I've seen and felt."

"Do what you want, Edward. You're a broken parody of sanity, yes. You justify stalking, and domestic abuse. But looking at you, one can pretend there aren't real stalkers, real abusers. And compared to them—even though your actions sanction their atrocities—you _are _a saint. Every world would be lucky to have you as its worst."

Maureen dropped her arms to her sides. She felt drained, completely worn out. She collapsed on the bench, burying her head in her hands. She heard soft footsteps approach her. Cold fingertips touched her shoulder.

"You hug me Edward, I'll throw something at you." Maureen scrubbed her hands across her face. Edward crouched in front of her, hands on his knees. Shoulders still hunched, Maureen raised her head and looked into Edward's unnatural, amber eyes. He met her gaze.

"Who was he?" Edward asked quietly.

"Reading my mind?"

"Yes." Edward said, unashamed. "But all I see is a face. Like you pushed everything away from me and yourself, except the image of him."

"Does it look liked some cartoonish embroidery?" Maureen asked. "Some lumpy, abstract face?"

Edward shook his head. "No. It is a tapestry, but it's crystal clear…like an exact copy of a photo, done in thread. I can see every shadow, every line of his face."

"Do you think he looks like you?"

Edward looked confused. "No. He's alive, for one."

Through the misery etched onto her face, Maureen scoffed.

"Well, I think he's _very much_ like you…mysterious, patronizing, handsome. But unlike you, he's a real guy. Which means the boundaries he sets are in _his_ best interests, not others. Bella's safe with you, Edward. You keep whining the exact opposite, but she's so safe, she can ask you for anything, she can _want_ anything, with the assurance that she'll be fine. You'll block her self-destructive desires…even the ones it's not your place to block. But that's a poor example of masculinity, Edward. The boy you see in my head…if a girl asked him for something, he would give it to her. Quick as he could, before she had a chance to change her mind. With that boy, the girl can't afford to want anything. _She_ has to be the smart one, and say no. And God help her if she doesn't."

Maureen wiped her nose on her arm. Sniffling, she stood up. Edward followed suit. Maureen held out her hand, and Edward took it gently. Ignoring the cold, stone-like feel of his fingers, Maureen shook Edward's hand.

"I don't like you. But I wish you and Bella the very best of luck." Maureen said. "This is a place with so few obstacles, dreams can actually come true here. You might as well work for yours. Truce?"

Edward nodded. "You never let me apologize for knocking you down, behind your house. But I want you to know. I am sorry for that."

Their hands parted. Maureen turned away and walked towards the gym, wobbling slightly on her heels. She made it into the building, and to the refreshments table without crying. A quick, cautious dab at her eyes with a piece of napkin took care of the unshed tears. Crisis averted.

"There you are!"

Maureen looked up. Rosalie was gliding gracefully towards her, followed closely by Emmett in a tuxedo. Rosalie looked like she belonged at the Oscars. Her dark red dress clung to her like a second skin, flaring out at her calves into a wide train with ruffles. The dress had no back, and the neckline dipped down in a V that was _much_ lower than Maureen's. Her golden hair was pinned up off her neck, in a complex and elegant twist. There were diamonds in her ears, and on her wrists.

"Jeez-louise." Maureen said. "Way to beat everyone else out for Prom Queen."

Rosalie laughed happily. "That might be fun, if I wasn't _too _stunning for the job."

The blonde vampire twirled, pouting. "But be serious. How do I look?"

"You look like you're going to get some when you go home." Maureen said honestly.

"I agree." Emmett rumbled. His big hands came to rest possessively on Rosalie's hips.

He looked at Maureen, and made a surprised face.

"Whoa!" He said. "You look really great, Maureen!"

"Thanks." Maureen said.

Rosalie interjected. "Do you need something to eat? I bet you need something to eat. I want you to come to our house, sometime soon. Edward keeps bringing Bella Swan over. I ignore her, but it's driving me up the wall. You need to visit, when he's trying to concentrate on something."

"Absolutely not." Maureen said. "I'm not going to be your little revenge play date. That's passive-aggressive."

"I think that's her idea." Jasper said, appearing at Maureen's shoulder. Alice was draped on his arm, resplendently weird in a runway dress with whacking big triangles cut out of it.

"Your makeup is a little smeared, Maureen." Alice said, gesturing with her pinkie finger.

"I'm not surprised." Maureen said. "I was scratching my face. Guess I'll just have to live with it."

A new song started, a smooth, fast tune with a steady beat and twirling melody.

"Oooh! This one is on the charts." Alice said.

"It makes me feel like dancing." Maureen said.

"You don't have a date, do you?" Rosalie said to Maureen. "I _know _you don't have a date. Jasper, dance with Maureen so she doesn't feel alone."

Alice made a face. "Rose, you have your own man to order around! Don't go sending mine off."

"Then I'll have Emmett take her." Rosalie said. Her tone reminded Maureen of Jessica, when they argued over who got to drive the car.

"Ignore Rosalie." Jasper said to Maureen. "Alice, too. I would be honored to waltz you along the floor."

"I could do it." Emmett said. "I'm good at swing dancing. But I don't know if you want to dance with either of us. You haven't said so."

Maureen raised her eyebrows, impressed. Emmett was a simple guy. But unlike his wife or adopted siblings, he actually got the idea that Maureen wasn't too keen on being pushed around, and appropriated.

"I do appreciate the offer." Maureen said. "But Emmett's right. No thanks."

"Come on, it's prom." Alice said. "You've got to dance with somebody!"

Maureen smiled slightly.

"I'll find a partner eventually." She said. "But for now, I'm good."

Maureen slipped off her heels, and pushed them under a chair with her bare foot. She took a few steps and spun, circling out onto the dance floor. Arms out, head raised, Maureen danced off alone.

* * *

_A/N - 'Undecided perspective' is my allegory for a book/movie/comic series that hasn't been fully written yet. If I recall correctly, Stephanie Meyer wanted to abandon the minor character Jacob. But fans begged for him to stay in, and that's how we got werewolves and Team Jacob and all that fun barf._

**Alright, that's a wrap for this story! Sadly, Spinner In Forks: New Moon is not done yet, and I don't like posting until the story is finished and has been severely edited. But so help me, I will publish it. I've got the storyline itself completed, and a few chapters already written. So put me on Author Alert, and you'll be informed if I post anything. If you have any more questions or comments about this story, feel free to review one last time. I'd love to know what everyone thought about how I ended this installment.  
**

**Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day!**_  
_


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